The Game
by celosia
Summary: Tristan is playing games! Not really a 'short' story anymore. Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1

**The Game** - celosia

A/N: Hello all! Small story on Tristan. I have absolutely no idea what the game they are playing is - it merely sounded good at the time. As with all my stories there will be no updates, because i can't:( . However if there is enough interest I might do a follow on. Thanks very much for reading and all feedback is appreciated.

Disclaimer: I make no claims to other's intellectual property...

The tables were empty in the tavern. It was mid afternoon, everyone was busy with something, apart from the lone figure seated at the knights' usual table. Tristan watched her from the doorway for a moment. She was moving wooden counters, cards and pegs in a systematic, intricate game. It made his head spin. What was this? Was there any point to it? He wanted to know and silently moved forward to sit next to her. She did not jump or flinch as they usually did, only shifted her eyes to his for a moment before continuing her movements.

"Ever played it before?"

"Don't even know what it is."

She chuckled and then in a few short, sharp hand movements seemed to finish. Her hands stilled, she looked at him fully for the first time and smiled in contentment. "It's always nice when it come through."

Tristan marvelled at her; such a sudden glow of happiness after minutes of sharp concentration. He wanted to learn.

She then set to work again, setting up opposing piles of counters and pegs and a smaller stack of carved cards with symbols inked onto them. Without a word she flicked a card and started again.

Tristan watched her play two more games before he had any idea of what was going on. It still made his head hurt but the fog was slowly clearing.

Vanora's head suddenly appeared, "Maye can you help me for a moment?"

She nodded, moved one more piece and stood to help Vanora.

Tristan could have screamed. Just as he was beginning to understand, she stopped! What was the bloody game, anyway? He looked at the pieces closely once more and tentatively moved a card and a counter. His hand hovered in uncertainty before he quickly made up his mind with a decisive nod. She watched him from the shadows, laughing silently to herself.

He sat back, waiting for her to return and finish the game, to see if he had understood. She returned shortly with an apple for him and a handful of dried berries and nuts for her to snack on. She looked at him closely as she sat and then at the pieces.

"Good."

He felt like he had just defeated an enemy twice his size and with more tricks up his sleeve than a magi. They grinned at each other like two children.

She got up and moved to sit opposite him, again rearranging the counters in opposing piles, one on his side and one on hers. She glanced quickly at his face and said in explanation, "two player".

They sat like that for the rest of the afternoon, until she had to go to work. Tristan never came close to winning and almost yelled at her on several occasions when she would move a peg, flip a card and then in the same movement pick up a nut, as if it was part of the game. It confused him.

As customers started to arrive, they finished. She wrapped the pieces in cloth and stowed them in a small leather bag.

"Tomorrow?", he asked hopefully.

She looked at him in amusement, "Right".

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"So Tris, where were you this arvo? Didn't see you anywhere." Bors was teasing. Vanora had told him of Tristan's activities and well, he was enjoying having something to hold over the scout's head. Gods know it didn't happen often.

"No where important." Tristan looked at him measuringly, his eyes glinting before flicking to the other knights at the table. None looked up.

She stood in the shadows at the back of the tavern listening to this brief exchange while serving some men. Multitasking was a wonderful thing. As she walked past the knights' table she chuckled softly to herself. Tristan heard her and hid his smile in his drink.

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Tristan came to the tavern the same time the next day. She was seated in her same position but her head rested on folded arms. Maye was fast asleep. Tristan walked behind the bar, helped himself to an apple and a drink and came to sit opposite her. He was content to wait. It had probably been a long night.

On his way past he noticed her legs curled up under her, the toes of her boots curling over the edge of the bench. Women. If he did that he would have trouble walking for days, at least.

He had finished the tankard and was beginning to eat his apple when Gawain, Lancelot and Bors walked in, coming to sit with him at the table.

Gawain looked at him strangely. "So this is how you like to spend your free afternoons?"

Lancelot chimed in, "I never knew sleeping women could be so interesting."

Tristan merely grunted before Bors explained what Vanora had told him the day before. They looked at him oddly but before they could resume their teasing, the sleeping woman sighed softly and slowly rolled a shoulder, easing her uncomfortable muscles. She raised her head, eyes still closed and covered by a curtain of hair, and lifting her hands above her head, stretched luxuriously.

She opened her eyes suddenly to see Tristan sitting before her, face passive as usual but eyes shining with amusement. Then she saw the other three knights. "How long have you all been here?"

Tristan now saw the leather bag containing the game, previously hidden by her folded arms and leaned over to pick it up. He handled the bag gently and began to lay out the pieces in preparation. She noticed his movements but was too busy questioning the others.

Lancelot broke into Bors' explanation of their presence there: "So you really _were_ playing a game."

She glared at him, annoyed at the insinuation before turning to find the game laid out and Tristan expectantly munching on a slice of apple.

"Hold a moment", she said smilingly. "I need food." Easing out from her position she cursed her legs softly and moved haltingly to the larder, returning to the knights' delight with a large platter of bread, cheese, fruit and other oddments. Tristan looked with misgiving at the food, remembering her distracting movements from the day before. Today he hoped to better her. Or at least come close. He hoped she wasn't cheating because at this stage he honestly could not tell. But he didn't think she would play him so.

They settled down to play.

This time he was sure she was trying to confuse him with her hand movements. She would hover over one pile, hiding it from his view before moving to another, flipping a card or merely trying to trick him into thinking that she did.

He was feeling his control slipping. She was deliberately trying to fool him. But he would show her. Maybe not today or tomorrow or anytime soon, in fact, but one day. The others had long since lost interest, starting their own quiet conversation and only glancing now and then at the two facing off across the table.

Maye watched him, trying to hide her grin. Yes, he was getting better but still missed the finer points of strategy. She was enjoying this. She savoured the annoyance and frustration on his face, knowing he was not a man easily bested and that this was perhaps her only foreseeable chance to beat him so easily.

Gawain nudged Lancelot and directed his attention to Tristan and Maye. Tristan had an expression on his face usually only seen when encountering a party of woads and Maye, while straight faced was trying desperately to hide her laughing eyes. "I do believe our scout has finally met his match."

Lancelot sighed melodramatically, "As all great men eventually do." Bors silently raised his cup to a passing Vanora who looked on indulgently.

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Crowds were beginning to enter the tavern and Maye shifted in her seat, waiting for Tristan to move and finish the game. He was under pressure and did not like it. Suddenly it all became clear and he moved a peg in triumph, looking up with a happy grin. Then it struck him. That had been far too easy. She had let him win. He looked at her accusingly waiting for confirmation. She returned his gaze, mocking but kind while also packing up the pieces.

He growled, "What did you do that for?"

"You're getting better."

"You did not answer my question."

She stood up and looking down at him replied, "And _my love_ I have absolutely no intention of doing so."

He was speechless. _My_ _Love?_ Only ancient grandmothers called you 'my love' in that tone of voice. What was she doing? She tried to trick him all afternoon and then called him a sickly sweet lover's nickname. Women! But no, his mind corrected itself. This particular woman was different. He had never seen the likes of her before and secretly hoped he never did again. She made his head hurt.

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Arthur looked at Tristan searchingly. His scout had been unusually curt all night. He was obviously fuming at something but Arthur had no idea what. He reviewed their interactions of late. No, he did not think he was the cause. Maybe it was one of the others. If it did not stop he would talk to them all tomorrow.

Maye watched from the shadows of the bar. Somehow the idea of Tristan being angry with her made her stomach twist in a nervous, upset way. Though it had been a jest she knew she had offended him and was busily making up for the affront. Her hands had been busy. Whenever she was not serving she had worked at carving him a wooden card, slightly bigger than her set. Instead of inking the symbol onto it she had etched it, creating a fine shadow on the wood. Later she would ink it in for him if he wanted it.

Tristan was yet again staring moodily into his drink, his mind floating free. He did not bother to look up when someone sat down next to him. He cared not. Let them occupy themselves because he was not in the mood. Something moved into his point of view. A carved wooden card. At this his eyes slid to the figure next to him.

Maye looked at him a moment before reaching over and patting his cheek. She grinned at him suddenly before getting up again to continue her work.

She moved on quickly. He glanced up at the abruptly silent knights around the table before dismissing them from his mind. Picking up the card slowly he studied her work. It was good for something done so quickly. A peace offering.

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They continued like this for several weeks, only interrupted when the knights were on a mission or Maye had a short break from the tavern routine to mind Vanora's children instead.

She continued to carve him his own game set, working on the pieces in her free moments and presenting them to him every so often. He in turn discovered her weakness for unripe, crunchy pears and proceeded to steal them at every opportunity. The other knights were often left waiting patiently outside orchard gates while their friend liberated the farmer of some of his fruit.

When injured after an encounter with a woad scouting party, Tristan awoke in his own bed to find the remaining pieces of the game resting on his table. Before again succumbing to sleep, he noticed he now owned a complete set. When he next awoke, there was a soft, tooled leather pouch as well.

He was able to beat her now. She didn't mind. A less competitive person would have been hard to find. Tristan was also a relatively easygoing partner and only became mildly annoyed at her when she was uncaring and made stupid moves. She only played the game to remind her of home and better times. It was never about wining. And it had been nice to find a partner to play with. There was, after all only so much fun you could have on your own.

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He decided to play a trick on her one day, as she had done to him in the early days of their competition.

"So what do I get for winning?"

She looked at him in surprise. "What? You want a prize? How about an apple?"

"I can get all the apples I want, but this", he said gesturing to the game they were in the middle of, "takes skill, concentration, talent..."

"Modest aren't you? Do I get something for beating you in all those early games we played?" She didn't like the glint in his eyes. The man was planning something and she didn't like it. Not one bit.

They locked glares, each attempting to stare the other down. It was his move and his hand flicked out and then returned to its resting position on the table. She would have to break her glare to see what he had done. Sighing in frustration Maye looked down. Damn! The man had won and worst of all, had a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"So in return for winning, what is it that you want?" Inside she was laughing quietly.

He stretched his arms above his head gleefully, all the while keeping his eyes on her. When finished, he said quietly, so that she was not sure if she had heard him correctly: "a kiss."

Well, he certainly had a nerve. She mulled over the proposition for a moment before nodding her head.

They met over the table, each leaning halfway. Their lips brushed each other and connected. It was short, sweet and rather chaste, not entirely what she had expected. A man who was claiming a prize (and that's what it was) usually went above and beyond, taking whatever liberties he thought to get away with. But not Tristan. When finished he leaned back, looking perfectly content and began to pack away their game.

He was unlike any other man Maye had met. He was perplexing but she was glad that Tristan had not pushed her, because otherwise she would have thought less of him and she didn't want to do that. They parted as usual, with no awkwardness but quite a bit of confusion on her part.

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That night in the tavern she worked as usual but her thoughts constantly returned to their kiss. Just what was he playing at? What did it mean? Was it some kind of revenge for the early fun she had had at his expense? On reflection, this was very possible, and so very like Tristan. After all, what other explanation was there? She startled one of the roman patrons with her sudden smile at the revelation and, seeing the interest and invitation on his face moved on very quickly. She was thinking of a plan.

Later in the night Maye left her tray behind the bar and walked to the knights' table, sitting without an invitation next to Tristan. Who, she noted did not look at all surprised. Well, we shall see if this lasts. He smiled at her in welcome and because she said nothing, turned back to the others.

At last, she said his name to gain his attention. It had taken her several moments to collect herself. "I have decided what it is I would like for winning all those times." Her voice was decided.

He was surprised. This was unexpected.

Then without warning, she leaned forward, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, moulding herself to him. He growled deeply in the back of his throat and hauled her onto his lap, not breaking the embrace.

Maye felt a glow of satisfaction. Bloody noble Tristan (though it was sweet) could be far too indirect at times. And this was so much more enjoyable.

A drunken Bors looked up from his ale and nudged Lancelot who was staring open mouthed at the couple: "Gods know it's taken them long enough."

As lovely as it was, Maye needed air. She tugged one of his braids and they broke apart, each breathing raggedly. She rested her forehead against his, seeing a glow in his eyes that must be mirrored in her own.

Maye could not resist one last jest and whispered against his lips, "Who knew winning could be so fun?"

She felt his body ripple with laughter before he leaned forward and again captured her lips with his.

A/N: Thanks to all those reading this and please review! If you really want me to I'll write a follow on/sequel to this. Thanks yet again and hope you enjoyed it.


	2. Changes

OMG! It's an update. Incredible. I don't know how this happened, butI'm so happy! A big, huge thankyou to my lovely and wonderful reviewers. (Sorry about the hyperbole). Your encouragement really meant a lot to me. Thankyou!

And so it continues... would you like more?

celosia

Disclaimer: I make no claims to other's intellectual property...

Things changed from then on. Tristan became rather protective of Maye, who he considered, with typical male pride, to be his. It was not that she minded, she loved him after all but freedom was a wonderful and seductive thing. He now paid more attention to her movements around the fort and discovered many small details. Who knew years of scouting practise would be this useful? Yes, she liked the crunchy, unripe pears he brought. She also disliked rising before the sun and had managed to befriend just about all of the camp dogs. Given the opportunity they would follow her everywhere.

Maye, in turn received much more attention from Tristan's brother knights. This was the first time that they had seen him tie himself seriously to a woman and the first time a woman had made serious advances to Tristan. They were rather worried. Now, Maye had not only to contend with a protective Tristan but also six others. And everyone knew that especially Arthur could be rather clucky at times.

She wondered if the attention would send her mad. And this was not even considering the other women in the tavern. Jealousy was an understatement. Vanora, thankfully was being very understanding. She was, after all with Bors and had been for longer than she cared to remember.

Maye found her, one morning in the pantry sorting through jars of dried herbs.

"Van, I do not know how you put up with it!"

"What is it, lass? Trouble with Tris?"

"Tristan and the rest of them, yes. I know we are just together and all is new but…" She petered out slowly and sighed. Vanora mused that Maye's anger never lasted long and thought again how well she complemented Tristan. Vanora was really a bit of a matchmaker at heart. She waited for Maye to continue.

Maye thought again of the events of that morning. "You know I always like to do my washing after an easy night?" Vanora nodded.

"Well, I planned to go out this morning and do it. I grabbed something from the kitchens only to meet the others. Galahad and Lancelot made jokes about how I spent my night. That wasn't so bad. Arthur offered to send a guard with me. Fortunately Dagonet was busy helping Gawain, who drank an awful lot last night. But I'm sure if they hadn't been otherwise occupied, they too would have had some helpful advice. Then on the way out I met Tris. He was fine. Going out scouting, I think." Vanora noticed the small smile on Maye's face.

"Anyway, so I went back to my room to pick up the washing."

"But why did you not just take it with you to the kitchens?"

Maye grimaced, "because the other girls insist on accompanying me if they know and I do not like it so much with them there." Maye enjoyed her solitude and found washing reasonably enjoyable when alone and totally free to let her thoughts wander. And, since she had rather publicly got together with Tristan, the other girls had asked such prying questions. It was irritating. Some wanted to know all the gory little details, others asked how she could stand him. Such a creepy, dangerous man, unlike the universally popular (but in Maye's opinion sadly lacking in some areas) Lancelot.

"They look through my washing and ask me if I have any of his to do, because you know Van, it's _true_ love if you wash his shirts." She started chuckling unable to help herself.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Tristan, I don't want to learn how to throw a knife."

"But you should."

"I have a vague idea and well… Is it not enough that I can use the bow?"

Tristan had been surprised when he found out Maye could shoot. She was good, very good in fact and had been rather offended at his surprise over her ability. Luckily she still could not best him or otherwise if the others found out they would have a field day. And, truth be told, he liked the fact that she could surprise him. It was a skill not many possessed.

"Tristan?" There was irritation and amusement in her tone. He realised that he had been staring at her and ignoring the question. What was it again?

She looked at him in amusement. No one else may have believed it but he actually managed to look sheepish. Tristan. Sheepish. Incredible. She must be in love. The thought warmed her insides and she realised guiltily that she had missed his reply. Damn.

Tristan held out his knife and looked at Maye expectantly. Better pick it up or he might realise her thoughts had been drifting. She picked up the knife and weighed it slowly in her palm.

Galahad walked in and sat behind them to watch. This would be amusing – a lovers quarrel. Though, from what signs there were, they were yet to be lovers in the full sense of the word. Maye had made it clear that she was not rushing into anything. The knights had all worried at first that she was too easy with Tristan and would simply let him have his way. They had soon been proven wrong. While she let small matters slip, as Galahad suspected this knife throwing matter was, she held an iron will with regard to some subjects. And she had made it clear very early that she wanted their relationship to move slowly. Galahad smiled at the memory of the inscrutable expression on Tristan's face. Even Maye had looked slightly troubled but still held her ground. Later in the night, Galahad and Gawain had come across them in an alley behind the tavern. It had looked that some forms of physical contact were still very definitely on. He returned his attention to Tristan and Maye.

"Hold it like this." He attempted to move her fingers to their correct position on the knife.

Galahad looked up as Gawain walked in and seated himself. "This should be interesting."

"But it hurts my hand that way. This is far more comfortable." She changed her grip again.

"Hurts? It's how we all throw…" He gestured to the other two.

"Well it hurts. I broke those fingers when I was small and they still pain me sometimes." She weighed the knife again and then before Tristan could again attempt to correct her grip, threw it forcefully at the target.

Gawain whistled in disbelief. It had struck dead centre. Galahad muttered, "I don't believe it, I just don't believe it."

Maye was both surprised and happy. How on earth had she managed that? She felt like doing a small jig on the spot and hoped that he did not want her to repeat the performance. That was definitely not going to happen and Maye was perfectly content to leave Galahad and Gawain in ignorance of her true and non-existent knife throwing abilities.

Tristan had not moved. He looked at her, the triumphant and slightly shocked grin, and calmly pulled another knife out of his boot. "Do it again."

She just knew that Tristan was going to ruin her fun. "How many of those bloody things do you have?" He simply gestured for her to pick it up.

"No, no I'd prefer to keep my perfect record intact…" Maye began to slowly back away but shortly found an object blocking her path. She looked round to see both Lancelot and Arthur. Wonderful, just when she needed an audience.

Lancelot smirked. "Nice shot Tristan. That is, I'm assuming it wasn't any of you two."

Galahad corrected him, "No, it was Maye."

Now Arthur was entering into it, "Maye!"

She wondered if she could escape now. Dishes to be washed, children to be watched and all that, but Tristan's eyes had not left her. He was not convinced. Damn. The one man she had never been able to fool easily, holding out another knife and waiting. Maye saw the look in his eyes. He knew it was only a lucky shot. So, why ruin the illusion?

She sighed in frustration. Fine. Better to get it over and done with. Maye moved forward again and picked up the knife. Before the others could start laying bets, she threw.

There was no second knife in the target. But Maye had managed to skewer a particularly ugly spider making its way down a nearby post.

She turned to Tristan, expression blank, but eyes jumping with laughter. The others were silent with shock. "You know, I've never liked spiders."

He looked at her shot critically. She had missed the target by miles but had neatly killed the spider. His shoulders began to shake with silent laughter.

- - - - - - - - - -

"So, Tristan. Still an empty bed of nights?" Lancelot crowed. He obviously had a death wish. The knights had been away from the fort for several weeks now and they all knew that Maye's ban on certain activities was tormenting Tristan. He had even stopped taking baths in the fort, preferring to walk down to the lake to bathe. It was the middle of Autumn and the water was cold, very cold.

Arthur groaned. They all knew that Tristan was tense and now Lancelot had decided to stir the coals. Brilliant.

Gawain looked at Lancelot in horror. "Are you honestly telling me she isn't worth waiting for. Hells, _I'd_ wait."

Collectively all their thoughts turned to Maye. The woman was something. The last time they had all seen her, she was standing in the pouring rain, determined to give them a proper farewell. Within moments her clothes were plastered to her; the dress clung low to her breasts, outlining the valley between them, the smooth lines of her stomach and waist and her slim hips. When Tristan had finally noticed them all staring at her he had quickly wrapped her in his cloak and continued to glance murderously at everyone for half the day.

Tristan watched their eyes collectively glaze over and chuckled mirthlessly in his head. Now they knew what it felt like. Let them find out what living in his own personal kind of hell was like.

"Rain!" Galahad actually sounded relieved as the fat drops began falling and tilted his head to let the cooling water run down his face and neck.

The rain snapped Lancelot out of wherever his thoughts had been. He looked at Tristan apologetically. "Look…"

He was interrupted gruffly. "Don't worry about it." He looked to the other men, still with shocked and glassy expressions on their faces and smirked.

"Sweet dreams."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The knights were returning from yet another mission. Tristan rode slightly in front, scanning for any danger. They were currently passing alongside a long caravan of villagers, forced to relocate because of a recent attack. Most were walking, carrying large bundles on their backs and others tended large wagons filled with various belongings.

He let his mind wander. It was good to be going home. He missed Maye. The ghost of a smile crossed his face. Each day he wondered what she might be doing, how she was spending her time while they were away. He wanted to know if she missed him.

Wait a moment. His mind replayed recent events. He recognised that cloak – brown with green edging. Tristan wheeled his horse and cantered back to others. He briefly pulled up next to Arthur and muttered, "Maye" before continuing back down the caravan's line.

Arthur looked in confusion to Lancelot.

"More pears?"

"But we never passed an orchard."

They both pulled up and followed the scout back. The others soon followed. And there was Maye walking at the back of a caravan, a bag over her shoulder and a small babe resting on her hip. She had been ignoring the riders passing and chatting quietly to the mother of the babe.

Bors' loud voice came as a bit of a shock. "Maye!"

She looked up, wondering who it could be that would know her name here. Seeing the group of rather imposing knights riding back she was torn between admiration (my, they looked impressive!) and guilt. Maye sought out Tristan's face, which was blank as usual. There might have been a pained look in his eyes but she wasn't sure. Why should she feel so guilty? She was after all her own woman. But the worry only increased. She handed the babe back to its mother and told her to continue on. These were friends.

"What are you doing here?" Dagonet was concerned. He hated to think of what this might do to the scout. It had not taken him that long to realise that Maye meant quite a lot to him.

"You're running away?" Galahad's voice was a pitch higher than usual. He liked this woman and thought of her in the light of a sister. She had made peace with the cook on his behalf, after a long running feud and had (he suspected) captured the scout's heart. She could not leave.

At times of stress, Maye tended to resort to sarcasm. "Oh yes, Galahad. Such a wonderful sense of direction I have, for when I'm trying to run away from the fort, I actually travel towards it. What do you take me for?" And this was a stressful time - she could not stop the worry that gnawed at her heart.

Then Tristan finally spoke, "Where have you been?"

She looked at him apologetically and explained: "About a week after you left I had word from my brother that his wife's babe was due, so I went to see the new arrival and stayed with them for three weeks. Van gave me the time off."

"Where?"

"On the coast, near Dovenium."

Tristan thought about this. She could have made it to the village in about four or so days, stayed and then headed home. Yes, it fitted.

Maye watched Tristan closely and saw his body relax slightly when he heard the story. It would have been a shock to see her away from the fort and Galahad certainly had not helped matters. Running away indeed.

"I didn't know you had family in Britain", Arthur said. In fact, he realised that he knew nothing at all about her family or where she came from. Something to put right, in the future.

Maye looked up at him and smiled slightly. He looked impressive in his shiny roman armour. While the others looked fearsome and attractive in a dangerous kind of way, Arthur looked almost majestic.

"I have family all over the place, but they have only been there since the spring."

Bors was looking paternal, "So you're an aunty now, eh?" Bless him.

"I'm an aunty several times over now, Bors. You are not the only one with little ones in the family." She paused. "I think I have five nephews and nieces now and more on the way."

"Right. Well now that we know that Maye isn't running away, can we keep moving, please?" Gawain was eager to be home now that the episode was past. "I want a bath and there's a blue eyed lass, who's been in my thoughts."

Lancelot piped up, "You mean that one that's waiting for me?"

Galahad groaned and rolled his eyes. Not this again.

Tristan had relaxed but still kept his eyes on Maye. He watched as she stiffened at Gawain's remark and met her eyes as they sought his out. Hers twinkled with amusement. She obviously knew something that Gawain didn't.

The others began to turn their horses for home and Tristan moved forward to Maye. He leaned forward and, seemingly effortlessly, picked her up by the arms and set her in front of him.

She twisted slightly, kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "I'm sorry", before bunching up her skirts and flipping a leg over the horse. She hated riding sidesaddle, though she knew Tristan would never let her fall. He pulled her back firmly and wrapped an arm round her waist, while the other held the reins. She let her head loll on his shoulder.

Maye sighed in contentment before wrinkling her nose. Lovely it may be to see him and know that he was safe and intact but this was too much. The man smelled horrible. She turned her head and looked at him reproachfully, "Tristan, exactly how long is it since you bathed?"

He grinned at her and pulled her firmly into his chest, before whispering, "I missed you."

Maye sighed. Damn him. She would forgive this man almost anything.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

It was later that night, Tristan had bathed and Maye had brought food for them to share. Vanora had said that one more day hardly mattered, so she had the night off. Maye was currently sprawled across his bed. Tristan was on the floor, his fingers idly combing through her hair, sprawled across the blankets.

Maye was in heaven, or as close as she was going to get any time soon. He was playing with her hair, her one weakness. Her mother used to plait and brush her hair as a child and ever since she had melted whenever anyone else did. It started as a feeling in her lower back, relaxing and spreading until her head was wonderfully fuzzy and she was almost unconscious. She would do just about anything to have someone play with her hair and Tristan's hands felt wonderful. She either wanted to fall asleep or drag him onto the bed and have her way with him, slowly.

Gods. This was getting harder. Tristan completely understood Maye's wish to take things slow and not jump into bed – he was a knight, could die suddenly and being left alone with a babe to support was not a nice prospect. But… If he could sit in a tree motionless for half a day surely he could control himself around this woman. But oh Gods it was hard. The cold dips in the lake might be continuing for a while yet. Cold. Icy. His mind screamed at him. Tristan forced a deep breath and concentrated on...

He was still, now absentmindedly, stroking Maye's hair when her voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Tristan." It was husky and her eyelids were heavy. The expression in her eyes was a mixture of sleep and something else that he could not immediately place. "If you keep doing that, I won't be leaving here tonight." Then before he could reply she rolled over on the bed and pulled him next to her, burrowing into his shoulder. Sleep had won.

Maye woke in the middle of the night. It was surprisingly warm though there were no blankets covering her. She felt wonderfully relaxed and oddly content.

She moved her head to look at the man next to her and was not all that surprised to find his brown eyes open and returning her gaze. Maye grinned suddenly at him and buried her head in his shoulder with a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl.

"Tristan." Her voice was muffled and he felt a shiver through his spine at the feel of her warm breath through the cloth. She lifted her head and looked at him through a curtain of hair. "I know that you've been taking cold dips in the lake." There was sleepy amusement in her tone. Maye flicked her hair out of her eyes and rested her chin on his chest, a contemplative look in her eyes. "And I want it all to end. You understand?"

It took a moment for what she was telling him to properly register. Then, before either could catch their breath, and with a great jarring of hipbones, Tristan had flipped over and situated Maye beneath him.

He waited then. To make sure he understood her invitation. I took a lot of self-control. Maye was looking up at him with an odd look on her face. She reached up and around to trace the tattoos on his cheek bones and then said, unexpectedly: "I've found standing in the rain helps. But you know, people are starting to give me odd looks."

It took a moment for her words to register. Then, a beautiful because so rarely heard noise broke the stillness. Tristan was laughing. He had never really considered that she would be so affected.

Maye tried to look indignant but failed entirely. "I mean, the number of times I've felt like dragging you from the tavern and having my way with you…"

Tristan felt his heart tense painfully. He had stopped laughing now but still had a happy smirk on his face. Gods, what this woman had done to him. It was truly incredible. He slowly moved his lips to hers and…

There was no longer any need for words between them.

A/N: Thanks to all those reading this and please review! Hope you liked it!


	3. Problems

A/N: Hello folks! There should be another update coming shortly after this one. Thanks very much to all readers and reviewers – the support really is wonderful! Sorry that this one makes a bit of a jump but… well, what can you do?

Disclaimer: I make no claims to other's intellectual property...

The day after…

Arthur did not know whether to be concerned or pleased. Tristan was rarely late for training. It usually meant that he was recovering from a long night, but as the man had made no appearance at the tavern the night before… Arthur dared to hope.

As usual Dagonet was on time and had obviously dragged Bors from his home on his way past. Mornings at Bors and Vanora's house were always rough – the struggle of adequately feeding and clothing all those children would be enough to drive any man out of the house. Arthur greeted them with a nod.

Galahad arrived next. He looked to be in a good mood but had not fully woken up yet. He headed straight out to the archery range. Arthur had decided long ago that during early morning sessions Galahad should start with an activity where he had little chance of harming the others before he fully woke.

Gawain and Lancelot came into Arthur's sight. Their squabbles over the blue eyed woman were obviously forgotten as they shared a story or compared notes (Arthur cared not) of the last night's activities.

"Arthur." Lancelot hailed his friend politely, slightly wary of the frown that already graced Arthur's face. It was far to early for anything like that.

"Do you notice something different about this morning, Lance?"

Lancelot slowly scanned the area, checking on each of the other knights and the surrounding vicinity. A slow smile spread across his handsome face as the realisation struck. He gave a loud shout of laughter.

"No Tristan."

"Right."

"Well, I wonder that means." There was a slightly wicked tone to his teasing question.

The word spread quickly.

Meanwhile…

As Maye entered the tavern through the back entrance, Vanora rushed over to her in a flurry of skirts. Maye found herself enveloped in a huge hug. Reflexively she wrapped her arms around the older woman and wondered what was wrong. Maybe Bors had left her. No. That was unlikely if not downright impossible. What else was there? Maye wracked her mind. Something to do with the children – that had to be it. It was possible that it was another child on the way or maybe the youngest had lost a tooth. Or…

Before Maye could exhaust the options for her friend's odd behaviour, Van leaned back and Maye finally saw the look on her face. So now Vanora knew. That _was_ fast. Maye experienced a slight interweaving of annoyance with her previous happiness.

"Oh darlin', I'm so happy for the two of you!"

"Van! How on earth did you find out so quickly? I've barely left my room and you can't tell me that Tristan is singing it from the rooftops."

"Sorry Maye but apparently they figured it out at training this morning. Tristan's never late, you see."

A look of comprehension dawned on Maye's face. He would have been late this morning. Very late in fact. If only she hadn't grabbed him just as he was pulling on his tunic… Damn!

In the meantime…

All the senses honed from Tristan's many years of scouting told him something was wrong. Very wrong. He paused in the shadows of a tree near their training grounds and waited, wracking his mind. Everything looked fine – the others were either sparring or practicing their aim and Bors was drinking from one of the water buckets. And yet he could not stop this nagging feeling. He took a breath and began the short walk to the open ground mildly berating himself for being paranoid.

Galahad cleared his throat loudly when he saw Tristan step out from the shadows. It was a warning to the others. It was not often they had something to tease Tristan about and it was an opportunity not to be missed. After all, it was just good fun. Even Arthur had been wearing a small smile of his usually frowning face all morning in happiness for his scout.

Tristan came to a rest next to Bors and Dagonet, who had joined him at the water bucket. Dagonet reached over and gripped him arm with a congratulatory squeeze before he headed back to the archery range. Tristan narrowed his eyes. Something definitely was not right. He watched warily as the others stopped what they were doing and moved his way, all with grins on their faces.

Lancelot was the first to break their silence as he casually tilted his face to the sky as if looking for rain but kept his eyes locked on Tristan. "So, last night, eh?"

Tristan's face darkened slightly. How did they find out so quickly? He looked around the circle of his brothers in arms for an answer.

Arthur, seeing his questioning gaze spoke up almost apologetically. "You're never late, unless it was a big night of course…"

Galahad finished the thought for him, "and no one saw you at the tavern last night."

Understanding dawned on Tristan. If Maye hadn't… Nevermind.

Gawain, one arm still idly swinging his axe asked the question they all wanted to ask.

"Worth waiting for?"

In answer Tristan's lips slowly curved into a ridiculously satisfied masculine grin.

Bors started chuckling merrily. It was all the answer they needed.

- - - - - -

Tristan was away on a scouting trip. He would be gone for a good few weeks and Maye was trying desperately hard not to mope. She seemed to be constantly waging an inner war against herself and it was driving her mad.

She told herself sternly not to worry, because Gods knew that Tristan could look after himself and would undoubtedly come back to her whole in mind and body. But if he came back hurt (she refused to look at death as a possibility) she would feel bloody awful because he was injured and she was not worrying for him and maybe if her thoughts had been more with him then it might not have turned out that way and …

It was stupid and idiotic and Maye never usually did things like it. She looked at life practically - if it happened, well then you dealt with it and got on with life. Worrying would not solve anything. Her relationship with the scout was turning her into a mad woman.

- - - - - - -

"Van, please give me something, anything to do! I need to be distracted. Peeling potatoes does nothing for the mind."

Vanora was sympathetic. At least when her Bors went away she had the consolation of knowing the others would do their utmost to keep her great lug alive and well. Tristan was alone out there and Maye had no such comforting thoughts.

"Well lass, take this tray over to Arthur, then. He'll be in the round table room working and will have forgotten all about lunch."

Maye was happy to oblige.

As her hands were full she kicked the door twice before shouldering her way into the room. Arthur did not even look up as she entered.

Fine way for a commander to act, she thought. What if someone wanted to do him harm and he did not even look up from his papers? But, then an assassin would hardly knock on the door in warning, would they. Ridiculous! Maye's inner dialogues were becoming a worry to her along with everything else. She blamed it on the scout. He was keeping her up of nights in more ways than one.

She set the tray to one side, careful not to disturb the maps and tablets scattered across the tabletop. Busy man he may be but Arthur still needed to eat. She waited until the scratches of the pen held in his hand ceased before attempting to reason with him.

"Arthur?"

"Hmmm?"

"Hello?"

He lifted his head to look at the figure disturbing his work. Arthur liked Maye, even though the Roman commander drilled into him knew that her relationship with one of his knights was hardly proper procedure. He would have to make sure, when their next inspection came around that it looked as if nothing fishy was going on. He grimaced at the thought. Tristan may be one of his best knights but he was hardly open to advice when Roman matters were concerned.

Maye watched fascinated as the emotions flicked across Arthur's face. There was first a look of recognition and pleasure soon replaced with a small frown and then a grimace of irritation and maybe exasperation. Remarkable. Remembering the task at hand interrupted Maye's interest.

"Arthur you need to eat." She said it firmly while also removing the pen from his hand and shuffling his papers to one side.

Arthur found himself with a plate of food thrust in front of him. It smelled good and he found his stomach grumbling appreciatively. While he sat and ate, Maye walked slowly round the table studying the carvings and symbols etched at each place. She had visited it with Tristan once before and he had shown her where the remaining knights sat.

Arthur's voice jolted her from her melancholy thoughts. "I am sorry for sending him away."

She met his glance with a look of amusement and resignation. "It's alright Arthur. I'm not going to hunt you down with bow and arrow because you sent my scout away. It could not be helped and I'm sure Tristan would be offended if you denied him his 'outings' and sent another. And then I would be the least of your worries." She ended on a laugh, though the thought would have terrified other.

"What's that?" She asked, pointing to a large earthenware jar sitting several seats away from Arthur. She felt it was time to change the subject. It was hard to discuss your lover's deployment with his commander and not say something to be regretted later.

He sighed in annoyance. "A gift from a grateful merchant. We stopped or at least discouraged the raids that were interrupting his trade. A jar of olives." Arthur snorted in amusement and then shrugged in explanation, "it's a delicacy in Rome but they're not popular in Britain."

"Yes, I know."

"What?"

"It's a long story but I have eaten olive before. I like them." She walked over to the jar and lightly ran her fingers over the pottery.

"Then they're yours. I was wondering if I should give them to the men and let them be disgusted at his munificent generosity or … "

She laughed in surprise, provoked by Arthur's sarcasm and the vision of a disgusted group of knights.

- - - - -

"Maye, what _are_ you eating?"

Gawain eyed the pile of seed pits in front of Maye and the small oil-slicked black and brown fruit-like things they appeared to be coming from. They did not smell sweet like fruit or look particularly appetising. There was a salty-bitter smell. She did however seem to be enjoying them.

"Olives, gifted to me by Arthur through your brave actions."

"What?" Gawain was after a quiet afternoon drink and instead found an empty tavern and Maye eating gods only knew what. And he had promised Tristan to keep an eye out for her.

"You apparently did a favour to a Roman merchant who sent a jar of olives in thanks. Arthur knew you would not like them so he gave them to me when I brought him his lunch today."

Gawain almost sighed in relief. For a moment there he had wondered… but now it all made perfect sense. He remembered the Roman – fat, talkative and cheap (they had slept in the stables).

He watched her pick up an olive in two fingers and lick the salty oil from its skin. He had heard of olives before but had never tried them. They were a Roman food and it was difficult enough to get supplies to Britain as it was. He watched her small white teeth bite into the dark, almost purple flesh and then scrape along the seed. He saw the brief look of pleasure on her face before she popped the remainder into her mouth and chewed for a moment before removing a small pointed seed and placing it in the pile in front of her.

Gawain's mouth was slightly open in shock. He had never seen someone enjoy eating something that much. Unless it was Vanora fulfilling one of her pregnancy cravings. Last time it had been potatoes roasted in the hot embers until they were crisped and brown on the outside.

Maye pushed the plate of olives his way. Gawain gingerly picked one up. It was slippery but hard. He sniffed it cautiously. It smelled of salt, vinegar and olive oil. Expensive flavours. Maye watched in amusement. She knew that most people hated olives and was just about to warn Gawain to eat it slowly when he placed the entire thing in his mouth. Not too bad so far. He held it on his tongue for a moment before biting down experimentally.

Maye watched Gawain's expression change as he began to chew. The movements were sharp and his jaw muscles tightened in distaste. At least he would finish it.

Gawin daintily removed the pit from between his teeth and placed it with the others.

"Not that bad but not something I would repeat too often. How can you eat so many?" He asked eyeing the pile in front of her.

"I love them." And she placed another in her mouth and began to chew. Gawain almost shuddered.

- - - - - -

"I am not pregnant!"

Gawain looked smug. "You were sick these past three mornings. You have been eating a lot and some of the _oddest_ food. What else could it be?"

"People get sick and the only reason you have seen me be ill these past mornings is because the two of you have also been outside throwing up. It's almost starting to feel quite companionable. A whole new side to the knights I thought I knew so well!"

Galahad picked up on Maye's sarcasm, "Oh, and I'm sure your charming lover will be glad to hear that when he gets back." He struck a pose, putting an arm around his imaginary comrade. "Tristan, friend I think you should know that Gawain and I have been seeing quite a lot of Maye in your absence. Yes late every night and early every morning to be exact, but it's not what you think – we've been bonding over the chamber pot."

Gawain raised his eyebrow mockingly. "Very good Gal, we'll be entering you into the contests when we're next at a fete. But that doesn't solve anything." He turned determinedly back to the woman in front of him.

Maye gave him an irritated look. "Gawain, have you ever been with child? Or you Galahad? Well, when and only when you have experienced the joys of motherhood shall I be taking your advice on the issue of womanly health."

She obviously expected that to be the end of their discussion and began to turn away, only to have an arm taken by each knight. They were very persistent.

It would have looked quite comical to anyone passing by – one small female figure sandwiched between two tall knights, who in true gentlemanly fashion appeared to be escorting her down the road.

Maye tilted her neck back to uncomfortable angle so she could see their faces.

Galahad looked down his nose at her, his features softening into a caring mask. "If you're worried about telling Tristan…"

Gawain continued, "…I wouldn't let that bother you…"

"…He might surprise you…", Galahad replied with an intent look that Maye couldn't read.

"… And what man doesn't want children?" Gawain ended philosophically.

"Whoa gentlemen, enough. It's like watching a nest-builder go back and forth and my neck is hurting. We wouldn't want to injure the _pregnant _woman now, would we?"

They steered her to some conveniently placed benches and sat, one on either side.

"Good, now you've admitted it we can work from there."

Maye sighed in defeat

"Look, I really am sorry to disappoint you but it is almost certain that I am not pregnant." She continued quickly before either could interrupt, "Firstly, I am a small woman so my cycles are not always regular, as it is, and I am taking herbs to stop myself becoming with child."

"Herbs!" They shared an alarmed glance.

Maye felt like hitting something. When the time came, she expected her mother or at least another female to broach the subject and not two very well meaning but clueless knights.

She stood up and faced them, hands on her hips. "Yes, herbs! You are not my mother!"

They looked sheepish at that.

"If you have any questions ask Dagonet discreetly. I do not want Tristan to arrive back at the fort to find widespread and completely speculative rumours that I am with child."

With that final word she stalked away.

- - - - - -

Dagonet was having a quiet drink in the tavern. It was early and relatively empty. Like the scout, he enjoyed his solitude. Vanora bustled quietly about. Dagonet felt content. He enjoyed it for a few more minutes before Gawain and Galahad walked in, talking earnestly in whispers. Gal hailed him silently with a wave and moved behind the bar to fetch a tankard for them both. They seated themselves next to him, and not at their usual table.

"Dag, can women take herbs to stop them getting pregnant?" Gawain asked.

Dagonet had not expected this. He raised an eyebrow in surprise and wondered what Gawain and Galahad were up to now. It was hardly his area of expertise. Sewing battle wounds and nursing the odd fever were one thing, women's health was something else entirely.

"I believe so. Don't know much about it." He took a reflective sip of his drink. "Why do you wish to know?"

Galahad tried to look airy and unconcerned. "Helping out a friend…"

Dag took another sip before speaking again. "I wouldn't worry you know, I think Maye can handle herself."

Gawain and Galahad shared a startled glance. "Really?"

"Aye. And anyway it's her and the scout's business, no one else's." He gave them a meaningful look.

After that, Dagonet was left to finish his drink in peace.

- - - - - - - -

The scout had returned. He was whole and in good spirits. Maye was content. Her thoughts had returned to their usual ways and she was at peace with the world. They were sitting leaning against the wall, catching the last of the afternoon sun.

Tristan was happy to be back at the wall. He was almost starting to think of it as home. He had missed Maye, badly. And from what Vanora told him, Maye had felt the same. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her calm face was slightly upturned, eyes closed savouring the dying sunlight. She basked in it. Tristan had always thought that to be an odd expression but it fitted Maye nicely.

He hated to interrupt her but there had been something nagging at Tristan since he arrived back at the fort. He needed an answer.

"Maye?"

She rolled her head slightly and opened her eyes until tiny slits of white were visible. She was listening.

"Are you with child?"

She did the unexpected, though Tristan was unsure what to expect in this situation or exactly what answer it was that he wanted. She started to laugh.

"No, love. Just the victim of some protective but overzealous friends of yours."

Tristan did not know if he was relieved or disappointed. He suspected it might be the work of Gawain, Galahad and possibly even Lancelot. Though he had asked his friends to keep an eye out for Maye he had not expected this…

All thoughts flew from his mind as Maye gently laced her fingers with his and turned once again to watch the sun set.

"Nice to have you back."

A/N: Thanks to all those reading this and please review! Hope you liked it!

celsoia


	4. Hindsight

A/N: Hello folks! Sorry about the long wait – in future I shall make no promises. I did have most of this written but then became stuck on the last little storyline. There's a surprise at the end! - don't be too mad

Right – Two major things to say. Firstly, I'm not really sure that I like this chapter very much, so sorry about that – I decided to post it anyway! It seemed to me that some things had to be put in even if they weren't really relevant for future events to make sense (see point no. 2 …)

And secondly, I've decided to continue this on into the movie territory… which means that those parts dealing with death/dying etc. might not be as humorous as the earlier bits (I'm assuming the earlier bits were generally considered to be amusing). -chuckle-

Thanks very much to all readers and reviewers.

Disclaimer: I make no claims to other's intellectual property...

Tristan and Maye were alone in the tavern, the scene of many happy memories. Tristan had missed lunch and Maye had offered to make him up a plate of food. She plonked a dish of something down in front of him. Tristan looked at it suspiciously. He had never known Maye to cook before and was unsure of the results. It was not that he didn't trust her of course, he just liked his food.

"I'm a good cook, don't worry." Maye tried to reassure him but it didn't seem to work. He did not even move to pick up a spoon. "Try the bread first then, someone else made that."

He looked guilty at that remark.

With a small sigh Maye seated herself next to him. "You know, when my mother and father were first married she planted a crop of beans. They did very well and she put them in everything. She worried about being a good wife to him. My father was too kind to say anything at first. He did not want to hurt her for trying so hard to please him. He finally put his foot down when she put them in his porridge."

Tristan was looking at her apprehensively. A slight smirk touched the corners of his mouth. "You're not going to put beans in my food are you?"

"No, love. The point of all that, was to say that you have nothing to worry about because I am simply trying to feed you. That's all. For all I care you can cook your own food."

He pulled her onto his lap. "You'd make a terrible wife."

She looked meaningfully into his eyes. "You'd make a terrible husband."

He chuckled softly and moved his hand to trace the hard line of her jaw. "Well suited aren't we."

As he moved to kiss her, his hand still cupping her jaw, she held a finger to his lips, "Only if you try my food."

Tristan stilled and contemplated his options. She looked determined and a determined Maye was not to be taken for granted. He made his decision, reached round and brought a spoonful of food to his mouth. She watched him eat intently. There was no look of overt delight or disgust, so it was, as always, difficult to tell what he thought.

"Well?" Despite her earlier words Maye did want him to like her cooking. It was not a desperate wish but something that she would like them to share. And it was one of few domestic things she enjoyed.

"Good."

Her face broke into a spontaneous grin, slightly echoed by the smirk on his face.

"Not such bad wife material after all, eh? You'll have to hold them off with that pointy sword of yours. Think of all those desperate men in search of a woman who can cook, battering at the doors…"

She leaned in to give him the desired kiss. It was sweet and triumphant. Tristan thought ruefully that nothing was ever simple with Maye. And he had begun to like it that way.

- - - - - - - -

Lancelot was trying to teach Maye the finer points of playing dice. She was not impressed. There was no real skill involved and the strategy was simple at best. It just was not the same. Who wanted to win and lose money so quickly anyway? She preferred the idea of the winner being the one with greater skill and not simply the one whom luck decided to favour.

Lancelot looked at her in horror when she told him her thoughts. Fortunately Dagonet walked in before they came to blows.

Maye and Lancelot had an odd friendship. It was slow to start, unlike the almost instant connection she developed with Gawain and Galahad or her fondness for Dag and Bors.

Maye had spent years watching and mostly avoiding Lancelot in the tavern and though she knew she shouldn't, had judged him for it. It was doubtful whether the barmaids and other tavern regulars had noticed that Lancelot was a complex man. But Maye certainly had and treated him, ever after, with caution, sometimes disdain and a fair dose of respect.

It had taken time for her to reconcile that image of him with the concerned but still playful brother-figure that had appeared when she and Tristan became a couple. The friendship that developed was strange. Tristan looked upon this with amusement, knowing it was quite similar to the relationship he had with Lance.

She and Lancelot were different in many ways but would continue on harmoniously for months at a time before something would happen that would interrupt their peace. As Tristan never intervened it was often Dagonet who would reconcile them if time had not already accomplished the job.

Dagonet had taken a liking to Maye from the beginning. She was not after the brief fame and notoriety that came from being with a knight and, from what Vanora had told him genuinely disliked the attention.

Maye also had a soft spot for Dagonet. Though at first glance large and intimidating, the man had a heart of gold. She also suspected he had a role keeping the peace whenever the group took long journeys. It was, after all an important thing to keep her Tristan sane and out of trouble.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The knights were all sitting in the tavern, waiting. They had returned from a mission the day before and were still adjusting to the different rhythms of the fort. It was nice to relax, get drunk and sleep without one eye open.

Vanora and Maye were passing back and forth, organising things for the night's crowds.

Lancelot was drunk. Tristan was mildly entertained. Maye was busy organising and had not had much time for him, but then Lancelot was really outdoing himself. It was almost better than a nice short, sharp skirmish with the woads. Almost.

Sometimes he worried about his supposed blood lust and what Maye would think. He knew he did not have a good reputation in the fort and that many avoided him because of it. In fact Maye and Vanora were the only two women he could think of that he had contact with. The others shied from him or merely avoided his presence.

She had told him once that she accepted him for who he was and that if he treated her the same way, they would go on nicely. It was still in the early days of their relationship. They had been standing on the wall at night watching the stars. Maye had finished at the tavern for the night and he had waited to see her to her door.

At the time he had wondered where the comment had come from but they both seemed to do that a lot in the early days of their relationship. Even Maye had seemed uneasy about things in those days. No, he corrected himself, uneasy was not the right word… cautious. As if, suddenly he would find out something about her and it would be finished. The dream would end. It was only later that he realised this. At the time, of course he had been too busy with his own problems – thinking exactly the same thing, in fact. That one morning Maye would wake up, the awful truth would hit her and she would never speak to him ever again. A bit overdramatic but terrifying nonetheless.

It had taken Tristan quite a long time to come to such an understanding of Maye. And she was still bloody confusing at times. He liked to comfort himself that he had her _mostly_ worked out. Glancing at his drunken friend, Tristan thought it was something that Lancelot obviously hadn't discovered, or didn't want to. There was a richness to Tristan and Maye's relationship that could never compare to bedding a woman one night and forgetting her name on the morn. But, of course that wasn't what Lancelot wanted.

Sitting in the tavern, he thought back to a recent night.

"_Tristan?"_

_There was a grunt in reply. They were lying in bed, entangled in each other._

_She drew a breath before speaking again, as someone usually did before broaching a painful subject. "Did you know that I once killed a man?"_

_At that Maye felt him move and a hand brushed the hair from her face. She did not look at him but kept her face twisted towards the wall._

"_I was younger. The family was still all together then. We lived on the mainland, near the coast, to the south. There were bandits. Robbers. Father, my brothers and some others were spread out, intercepting them one by one. I was hidden on top of the roof and I shot and killed one. I couldn't let him get inside. My mother was ill at the time. My sister… I could not let it happen. So I shot him."_

_Her voice trailed off and she finally looked Tristan in the eye. She had not dared to before she had got it all out. His face was unreadable as always._

"_I just thought you should know." Maye would have shrugged if she were able._

Tristan was amazed again and again by how tough she was. He should have known she would look so pragmatically at something like that. Maye had taken a man's life no matter how undeserving of it he may have been. He may have had children, a wife, parents who would mourn for him. She had made a decision and had dealt with the consequences as reasonably, as she dealt with everything else. And now she asked Tristan for understanding and acceptance. He had reassured her and she was content – had slept most of the morning away.

The incident had raised questions in Tristan's mind that he had thought would never need answering. He took another reflective sip of his drink and for the time being turned his attention back to Lancelot, who was up to his usual behaviour.

Lancelot reached out automatically and hauled the passing female figure to his side. Undoubtedly female but this time it felt slightly different. Vanora's hip did not stick out so much and she seemed to have shrunk slightly. Never mind. He took another sip of his ale.

Maye had been shocked at first. She gave Tristan a wink. "I think you might have the wrong person, Lance."

Suddenly sobered, Lancelot looked up in shock at the sound of Maye's voice. He hadn't meant to grab her; he had thought it was Vanora. "Uh Maye! I though you were Van." He stopped there and cast a mildly panicked glance at Tristan, who had removed a knife from somewhere and was idly testing the blade with his thumb.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"Marriage?"

"Aye, well. It's to be expected isn't it?" Lancelot wondered if he had said something wrong from the odd look on Maye's face. It was not what he had expected. Women usually screeched and crowed with joy when the word was mentioned, but Maye just looked shocked.

He tried again, "You do want to wed, don't you?"

She stared intently at him as if trying to decipher the answer from his face. "Yes, at least I think so…" Then, suddenly realizing that her reaction might seem a little odd, Maye finally forced a smile and joked, "I guess someone will have to make an honest woman out of me someday."

She then got up and looked closely and searchingly at Lancelot once more before lifting a hand in farewell and continuing on her way.

Lancelot was confused. Throughout that entire conversation, Maye's face had held an odd look of wonderment, as if he was introducing the topic for the very first time into her thoughts. And that was not how most women behaved at all. What's more, Lancelot was sure that Maye loved Tristan. He would stake his life on it. The whole thing was distinctly peculiar.

"Lance." He was jolted out of his thoughts by the arrival of Arthur.

"You look troubled my friend."

Arthur seemed in a good mood and Lancelot was not about to let thoughts of his unusual friend and his lover spoil this rare moment.

"Just thinking it's a good thing I never decided to try my luck with Maye. Confusing woman."

Arthur pondered this comment for a moment. "You're right, you know. She would have put a pillow over your head long ago."

- - - - -

Maye was assisting Vanora in bathing the children. They had begun to smell and Van had put her foot down. It was always more difficult in winter - no one wanted to shed their warming layers of clothing for the cold of a bath. So, they had heated water in batches and were now onto the youngest child. Bors had helped in the beginning, but now slept in the corner with one of his daughters cradled in his arms.

Maye did not mind tasks such as these so much. It also gave the two women the chance to have a good talk and there was something troubling Maye's mind.

"Lancelot asked me about my thoughts on marriage today," she said, coaxing the small boy out of his coat.

Vanora looked up from her spot watching a vat of water boil. "To the scout, I take it?"

"Yes Van. I can't see Lance finding his own lass to settle down with in the near future let alone poaching his friend's woman. He has far too much fun teasing your Bors."

"Oh I know Maye. Causes me no end of heartbreak… So what's the problem? You don't want to wed Tristan?" The water boiled, she lifted the vat from the fireplace and used it to top up the lukewarm water remaining in the tub.

"I don't know Van. I've always tried to stop myself thinking on it because Tristan is hardly the type … and now that Lance has planted the thought in my head it's made me think. I just don't know."

As one they lifted the small boy (possibly no. 9, Maye often forgot) into the warm tub and began to soap and scrub at him.

After her son had settled, realising there was no escape to be had for the moment, Vanora sighed resolutely. She had obviously decided something. Maye thought it might have something to do with the children. They hadn't missed one had they? There were an awful lot.

"Maye? You want a piece of advice?"

She nodded her head, somewhat absentmindedly. Who knew a child with such short hair could have so many knots in his hair?

"Maye, if you want Tris to marry you, you have to work at it. That's the mistake I made and now this one's so comfortable it ain't never going to happen." She scowled fiercely at Bors, still sleeping peacefully.

"But…"

"You have to get them when the relationship's still in its early days or otherwise, they just let themselves go and you've got no hope."

"Van…"

Vanora's voice rose as she warmed to her argument. "Look at that great lug there…"

Maye looked up, only to see Bors and his daughter stirring. This was not good. Vanora and Bors' fights were legendary around the fort and she really did not want to be anywhere near them, let alone in the same room as them while one was in progress.

Sensing the mood in the air, it seemed as if Bors' daughter couldn't wait to get outside. She tugged anxiously at her father's tunic until he deposited her gently on the floor and then scurried quickly out the door. Maye looked worriedly to the small figure still in the tub. Even he looked apprehensive.

"… Never asked me to marry him and what do we have, eleven children. Eleven! And what do I get? An occasional trinket and the continued joy and wonderment of his companionship!"

The small boy looked at Maye in panic. He obviously knew what was coming. She quickly rinsed him off with double handfuls of water, ridding his small body of soap and then lifted him gently to where a towel waited, warming by the fire.

Bors had obviously realised that something was going on. All the signs were there. His children had almost magically disappeared (his son was drying off and pulling on the underclothes that Maye handed him with a speed that almost defied belief) and his Van had _that_ look on her face. He almost picked up his coat and left, but long experience had taught him that that only prolonged and intensified the torment. At least he was well rested. Bors winced at the sound of a watery crash.

Maye quickly hustled her young, half-dressed charge outside, passing Bors with a sympathetic look. There was another crash in the background. She almost slammed the door in her relief to be out. Poor Bors, he was in for it now. Maye felt guilty – she should never have brought that topic up. Damn, hindsight was a wonderful thing.

-to be continued-

A/N: I didn't plan to cut this in two but my temperamental computer decided it didn't like uploading files this big. So… read the next chapter! (or if you really feel like it you could review now!)


	5. Illadvised males

As promised, what happens next… (standard disclaimers apply)

Maye was surprised to see Jols standing in the shadows of the back entrance to the tavern. She thought the knights were having a meeting.

"Maye, you're summoned to the round table."

"Jols?" He grinned at her and motioned out the door. Jols always liked things done efficiently. She could question him on the way.

They started walking. "Arthur asked for you, don't know why exactly."

Maye was secretly rather pleased to be out of the tavern. Vanora was in a foul mood and alternating fits off crying with hurling pots, cup, plates, whatever was available in fact, at the wall. Not that Maye could blame her. Poor Bors (despite his rest) had lost it before Vanora's anger had run its course and said something he shouldn't have. They were all paying for it now. Stupid man.

Speaking of ill-advised males. "_Summoned_, Jols?" There was laughter and mock indignation in her voice.

He grinned slightly and held up his hands in surrender. "Not my words. Maybe I should have rephrased it." He stopped, removed an imaginary hat from his head and made a sweeping bow before her. "My lady, the humble knights of the round table and their esteemed Roman commander eagerly await your pleasure. At my lady's discretion I would be pleased to escort her."

Maye chuckled in delight. Jols had a wonderful sense of humour, though he rarely chose to share it.

They had reached the doors by this time and with out knocking he ushered her in.

Maye was met with an unexpected sight. She had always thought of their meetings as being orderly and organised, a formality in the chain of Roman command. How wrong she was. Jols did not even look surprised at her shock and pushed his way out of the room.

Arthur sat chin resting on his clenched fist, a look of contemplation of his face. He looked like an image of a Greek god she had once seen. Tristan was leaning far back in his chair and seemed to be considering the ceiling. She thought he was ignoring the surrounding chaos, until his eyes briefly flicked to her and winked.

Lancelot and Bors were engaged in a heated argument, while Dagonet, sitting upright in his chair loomed over them like some ancient bodyguard, keeping the peace.

Galahad was stretched out on top of the table sleeping peacefully. She could not see Gawain. Odd. Suddenly Bors thumped the table, making a particularly vehement point. The noise or vibrations roused Galahad, who sat up groggily and yawned in the direction of Lancelot and Bors. He looked utterly bored but moved off the table to regain his seat. He too, looked around for Gawain, who was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he had escaped.

Maye looked to Tristan, her palms held out in a gesture of bewilderment. He only smirked amusedly.

Gawain then emerged from the shadows to her left, where the only window was situated. He walked to Maye, grinning widely and then made a sweeping leg, capturing her limp hand and kissing the wrist exaggeratedly. Straightening but still retaining her hand, he looked earnestly into her eyes before exclaiming loudly, "An honour to have you join us, my lady."

She blushed. Gawain must have seen Jols and Maye's progress from the window.

The others had all stopped what they were doing or roused themselves upon seeing Gawain's odd behaviour. Arthur looked on in interest, Tristan in amusement, Lancelot, Bors and Dagonet in surprise and Galahad in sleepy puzzlement.

Gawain laughed deeply while Arthur cleared his throat, finally noticing her presence.

"Ah Maye, please have a seat. We have a small problem that you may be able to help us with."

She walked numbly to the nearest chair and sat, not knowing whether to laugh hysterically at the whole crazy situation or run from the room.

Arthur stood and smiled slightly after glaring meaningfully at his surrounding knights. The message was clear – Arthur, for the present at least, had the floor.

"This argument between Vanora and Bors is upsetting everyone. _I _wondered if you had an opinion."

Bors broke in loudly. He obviously did not believe she had anything to contribute in resolving this. After all, she had been there when it started. "We all know what she'll say – women stick together."

"Bors! I want to hear Maye's opinion."

"Arthur, with all respect, I'm not sure I want to get involved in this. When I left Van was hurling pots at the wall… let Bors and Vanora sort out their own affairs."

"Worried your scout won't protect you, Maye?" Gawain almost seemed to be rubbing his hands with glee.

Finally awake, Galahad snorted, "Tristan and Vanora? I know who I'd be putting my money on."

"Quiet you two. Maye, as much as I agree with your sentiments, things cannot be left as they are. I can't have Vanora abusing my knights whenever she sees them, and …"

"You afraid of Vanora too, Arthur?" Gawain was obviously enjoying this spectacle. Maye tried desperately to keep a straight face.

Wisely Arthur decided to ignore that. "… and I can't have Bors so worked up that he picks a fight with all who cross his path."

"Arthur I understand your problem but really… leave me out of this. I work for Vanora; it would be very awkward." She made to slowly rise from her seat but was stopped by the noise of Gawain clearing his throat, a wicked sparkle in his eyes.

"And yes, Gawain I am afraid of Vanora, so don't even try it."

She made to leave, hoping that this was the last of the matter. However, Arthur's voice halted her once again.

He had an appealing look on his face. "Will you at least tell us what provoked Vanora?"

She was worried. "What makes you think I know?"

Arthur, sensing he might have something here continued, "Bors said you were there when it started."

Maye sat down again. She had a horrible sense of dread. It wasn't really her fault. No, of course not. It was simply an ill-advised question - a simple mistake that anyone could have made. She could not have known how Vanora would act. Not her fault at all. But she supposed guiltily that she might have had just a little something to do with it.

"Well. We were bathing the children – they were beginning to smell."

Maye cast a quick glance around the room. Arthur nodded encouragingly at her.

She continued, "And then I asked Vanora about something… which might, I suppose… just maybe have encouraged her to pick a fight with Bors."

Bors stood his eyes wide, hands clenched tightly around the edge of the table. "You!"

Arthur glared at his knight until he sat and appeared to calm himself. "Bors, you know very well that Maye would never seek to cause conflict between the two of you. Now Maye, what did you say?"

This was the part where it got awkward. "Arthur?" Her voice was pleading. He was a just man. Maybe he would recognise her dilemma and leave things as they were. Or maybe she could ask to tell him in private.

Arthur seemed to recognise some of struggle. "It's all right Maye, nothing will leave this room."

She felt like grinding her teeth in frustration. He didn't _quite_ get it, did he? "That's not what I'm worried about."

"Go on, Maye," Gawain encouraged. "Or are you worried about who will protect you from a certain scout?"

Damn Gawain! Maye glanced worriedly at Tristan, who looked to be quite interested in the direction things were going. He had even stopped his contemplation of the ceiling! She frowned meaningfully at him and then shrugged her shoulders, hoping he would catch her 'subtle' message that it really wasn't all that important to him. The scout just curled his lip slightly and settled more comfortably in his chair. He was going nowhere. Maye could almost have screamed in irritation.

It now appeared that Arthur finally had the situation in hand. The little display between Maye and Tristan could hardly have made things much clearer. He decided to try anyway. "Ah, Tristan?"

The scout was unyielding, "I'm not leaving."

"So what did you ask Van?"

As there was no way she was getting out of this, Maye decided to get it over and done with. "Earlier that day, Lancelot had asked me about my thoughts on something and it stuck in my head. It worried me a little bit so I decided to ask Vanora about it and now, well, here we are."

"And what was this subject?"

Maye took a deep breath and then answered in a hesitant voice, "Marriage."

Tristan's head jerked ever so slightly at that. Marriage? He glared meaningfully at his friend. What was Lance playing at?

The tension was broken by a distinctive sound - Gawain began laughing. It started as a relatively soft chuckle that expanded to fill the whole room. It was impossible to glare angrily at someone when another was so obviously finding humour in the situation. Even Tristan had abandoned his pursuit to look wonderingly at Gawain.

Gawain managed to control his laughter for a moment to summarise, "So this all started because Lancelot for reasons only known to himself asked you your opinion of marriage and you went to Van for advice? On marriage?" He broke off into more chuckles.

Maye was indignant, "Your point being? Van's a more reasonable choice than any other here!"

Bors grumbled, "When has that woman ever been reasonable?" There was a sympathetic murmur around the room.

Maye leaned over the table to glare meaningfully at the surrounding knights (most particularly Gawain and Galahad). "The last time I received any advice from you lot, my lover returned to the fort to find it filled with rumours I was with child! And you think Van was an ill advised choice of confidant!"

A guilty silence descended on the room, Tristan excepted. He felt as if a lot of things had just been made clear.

Arthur stood, adopting his commander mode. The meeting was clearly at an end. They had their answers. "Maye? Thank you for your help."

She nodded in acknowledgement. Arthur thought she looked almost regal. It was obvious she had won this encounter. He could not stop himself grinning in amusement – it was not often his knights were bested and especially by a woman. "Would you mind stepping outside for a moment?"

Maye rose without a word and closed the door softly behind her.

"Right. Bors go and explain reasonably to Vanora why you at this moment cannot marry her." He waited until he had Bors's nod of acceptance before turning to his second. "Lancelot?" Arthur's voice held a strong note of teasing, "In future please refrain from asking Maye delicate questions."

Lancelot nodded and shifted his gaze moodily to study the table in front of him.

Arthur was not finished yet. "And Tristan?"

The scout looked questioningly at Arthur in response.

"Go and talk to your woman."

A/N – Thanks for getting this far and please review!

celosia


	6. Days like these

A/N: Hi All. Sorry about the long wait. This is a short chapter but there should be more shortly. In reply to Furibondo and any other worried people, I would never kill off Tristan or Maye and I hope the darker bits won't ruin the story. I guess I am asking (pleading?) you all to bear with me for a bit… it was something I just wanted to try. :)-

Usual disclaimers apply…

Thanks very much to all readers and reviewers. Hope you enjoy it!

celosia

Tristan was having fun. He was bored, a dangerous thing at any time as his brothers well knew. But this time he had turned his energies to something different. He watched from the shadows of the wall as his target slowly made their way up the path. He stood watching and waiting and then suddenly made his move. Tristan crept up to the figure and then calmly, as if there was nothing wrong moved silently alongside.

Maye gave a short, startled intake of breath. She almost dropped her basket of herbs at the sudden appearance of a dark figure alongside her. _Tristan._ Damn him, he had been doing this to her a lot recently. Maye tried furiously to calm her wildly beating heart and deny him the satisfaction of scaring her. She glared at him through the corner of her eye. She knew the scout was bored but this was taking it too far. Maye's nerves were wearing thin. He was trying not to smirk but she wasn't fooled. Maye was simply a new target. Galahad had told her of times in the past when Tristan had made it his personal mission to scare the life out of each of his friends. Even Arthur had not escaped.

She took a deep breath, willing control. "Tristan, you have to stop doing this to me."

He only lifted an eyebrow in response, pretending innocence.

"Don't play dumb with me, scout. I almost broke down in the kitchens the other day because I thought you had snuck up on me again and it was only the cat. And yesterday, Lancelot caught me checking around corners. I'm turning into a mad woman."

"Alright, alright no more then."

She looked at him suspiciously. Tristan merely took the basket from her hands and draped his other arm around her shoulders comfortingly. Maybe it was time to stop.

It was later that night. The tavern was quiet. Tristan watched from his usual place as Maye moved around, bringing drinks and cleaning up spills. He had an uneasy feeling and had decided to stay close to Maye for the evening. Arthur was closeted with a messenger from somewhere and he did not know where the others were. He watched as Maye went to Vanora and shared a few words with the red head. Van waved her hand in dismissal and Maye disappeared out the back for a few moments before returning and heading straight for where Tristan was sitting.

He assumed she was going to sit next to him but instead Maye gripped his shoulders and perched herself on the table in front of him. "Maye?" He was surprised. "What are you doing?"

She smirked wickedly, "I'm having my revenge." And with that she angled her mouth over his, kissing him deeply with all the self-assurance that Maye only occasionally let out. It felt like she had stolen his breath away. Her lips were the only part of her body touching him and all Tristan's senses focused on this contact. He knew what she was doing but couldn't stop himself. He wanted more.

Maye pulled away and sat back with a lazy grin. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip teasingly and hopped down from the table. Tristan watched warily. He did not really want to make a public display in the tavern, but if that was what it took…

She slowly began to make her way out of the tavern but turned for just a moment to cast a smile over her shoulder at Tristan. It was a grin of amusement and triumph. A challenge.

Never one to rush things, Tristan sat and watched Maye leave the tavern before rising and following her out. She would not have gone far – it was not her plan.

Unhurriedly he walked as if heading towards his rooms, his instincts and Maye's familiar small footprints telling him that she would be headed in that direction. Sure enough, up ahead waiting under an awning, stood Maye. She faced the direction he would be coming from and was quite obviously waiting, a smirk still on her face.

She spoke softly as he neared her, "Taking your time my love?"

It the half-light of the moon, Maye saw his teeth gleam in what must have been a predatory grin. "More fun this way."

Before Tristan could stop entirely Maye moved to align her body with his, wrapping her arm around his waist and matching her steps to his. Almost reflexively Tristan draped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her body close to his. "What are you up to woman?"

"Playing games, my love, just playing games."

They continued on until just outside the doors that led to the knights' quarters. Tristan sensed that Maye was not quite finished with him yet. He was right. Maye pulled him to her gently and tenderly traced the tattoos on his cheekbones. Standing on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips lightly across his, all the while watching his eyes darken in anticipation. A teasing look came across her face and she repeated the movement again, refusing to deepen the kiss. He almost groaned in frustration. This was not fair.

Maye broke away and ran up the stairs in the knights' hall. She then paused and waited for Tristan to reach the top. He still walked calmly but Maye could tell he needed the moment to collect his thoughts. Once there he backed her into the wall at the top of the stairs and smirked as she almost growled in frustration. Maye was too short to reach his lips. She settled for running her hands up and down his back. Tristan bent his head and kissed her softly and slowly while his hips pinned her to the wall. Maye wanted more. She reached up and tangled her fingers in the hair at the sides of his face and pulled, deepening the kiss. Her reaching movements ground her hips more forcefully into his.

They were startled by the sound of a soft cough and Lancelot appeared out of the shadows.

Maye broke the kiss and buried her head in Tristan's chest. He felt her shaking, trying to stifle her embarrassed laughter.

"Tristan." Lancelot saluted his friend and walked slowly past them, an amused grin of his face.

Tristan waited until Lance had reached the bottom step before attempting to untangle Maye from her position buried in his chest. They needed to get to their room. Quickly. In the end he settled for gripping her hips tightly and hitching her up until her head rested on his shoulder and her legs could wrap around his waist. Effective if nothing else.

They were just to the door when a shout again interrupted them. Lancelot again. "Tristan! Meeting, now."

He could have screamed. Maye just groaned, loudly. It almost sounded like she was in physical pain. He kissed her harsh and quick and then broke away and moved down the corridor. He heard her voice float huskily down to him as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"I'll be waiting."

The meeting was over. Tristan walked casually to his room, well aware of the knowing glances Lancelot had been shooting at him all evening. He opened the door with his usual stealth to find Maye waiting on the bed as she had promised. Asleep. She had curled herself into a ball, as he had learnt she did on cold nights. Her knees were tucked into her chest and her arms sprawled across the bed, one tucked just beneath the pillow and the other resting beneath her chin.

Tristan did not want to wake her. She worked hard. He removed his boots and lay down next to her. It was enough that she was simply in his bed.

- - - - - - - -

"There's a bishop coming to the wall."

"Sounds like some kind of rare but unpleasant bird." Maye was in a funning mood. She had the next day off. Provided she minded Van's children in the afternoon, of course. It was a small price to pay.

Galahad spoke up, "You're not far wrong. He's bringing our papers."

"Best behaviour, eh?" She moved round to top up Gawain's drink.

"Not for much longer, lass!", Bors gloated. She knew he had great plans for the life after his service. Vanora was indulgent, glad that they would finally see the end of this period.

Maye paused and looked to Tristan. He winked and she continued on her way.

- - - - - - -

It was later that evening. After sitting and discussing the arrival of the bishop, the knights had gradually gone their separate ways. Lancelot was gambling with the Romans, Galahad was snoring in the corner and Gawain had disappeared with one of the women some time ago. She did not know where Tristan was – possibly up on the wall. Bors and Vanora had managed to convince Jols to mind the kids for an evening and were enjoying a night together without distractions. Dagonet sat at a table near the back. He had seemed preoccupied all evening. His thoughtfulness contrasted sharply with Galahad's controlled excitement. Maye's practiced eye saw that his cup was running low. She wondered if all was well with the big man and moved to serve him.

"And what will you do when you have your freedom, Dag?"

He looked up at Maye with a slight smile. "Maybe stay. I'll see what the others do. I have a life here, though."

She nodded her head in understanding and then, with a quick glance round the tavern, sat opposite him. Business was light and Maye's feet hurt.

"I think I might go south", she said in a musing voice. "This place is going to be shot to pieces once you knights leave."

Dagonet chuckled at that.

"Warmer in the south", he commented. The knights had all had trouble adjusting to the cold of Britain. They both turned to look at the snow-covered fort. It lent the scene a strange kind of beauty.

"I don't mind the cold," she mused. It was true. She was currently wearing what looked to be a summer dress with a long sleeved tunic underneath and her usual boots.

"You need to dress more warmly." Dag did worry about Maye. He wondered what the scout and she would do. They certainly needed to come to a decision.

"I have a secret." She announced in a whisper and a finger held to her lips in warning. She then gestured for him to look around the edge of the table. Maye lifted the hem of her skirt slightly to show that she also wore a pair of thick breeches, tucked into her heavy boots.

Dagonet shook his head in amusement, while Maye moved on the serve some new arrivals.

What lay underneath, indeed.

Thanks for getting this far and please review!


	7. Bishops

Hey y'all. As usual, sorry about the wait. Couple of warnings for this and the following chapters – because most of it's in the movie and we all know what happens, I'm going to be skipping large parts and subtly editing others (bit of a hint there). I had a hell of a time deciding where to put breaks in as well, so be nice. Anyways, hope you enjoy it…

If you were wondering, the inspiration for the scene between Maye and Tristan near the end is from a song called 'Stuff and Nonsense' by Tim Finn.

Usual disclaimer applies. Thanks for reading and please review!

celosia

Tristan was having a nightmare. Feeling the shivers and movements of his body, Maye had propped herself up on one elbow to study him. His lips moved with soundless words and his eyelids twitched. Maye was caught between irritation (she had to be up early to see a trader) and sadness. Who knows what this man had seen and done? She didn't know what to do. Tristan had nightmares rarely but when he did it seemed to affect him dreadfully. Their Bishop was due to arrive shortly. She wondered if that had anything to do with it.

Maye remembered watching Galahad wake Lancelot once when he had fallen asleep in the tavern. He had not made it home the night before and lay sprawled across one of the tables that Maye needed to wash. She waited with a bucket of water and a rag as Galahad had gingerly shaken Lance's shoulder. That hadn't worked and Maye had jokingly offered to tip her cold water over him. Galahad had prodded Lance once more when his wrist was suddenly grasped and twisted, propelling him round until he rested with a knife at his throat.

In reflex, Maye had thrown her bucket of soapy water over both of them. Both men had later laughed it off but Maye had seen the wild panicked look in Lancelot's eye.

She looked Tristan over again and thought about calling one of the others. She did not want to end up with a knife pressed to her throat. No, she would be able to do this but first she would remove the potential weapon. Maye gingerly reached under the pillow and wiggled her fingers, searching for the small blade hidden there. Tristan had the bloody things hidden everywhere – there was even one concealed in the stonework next to the doorjamb. Gods only knew why. Encountering something hard, she tried to get a better grip on the object.

"Damn". A flash of sharp pain travelled along her hand and up her arm. The horrible, vicious little thing had nicked her! Maye wrenched her hand out from under the pillow. Blood covered her hand from a deep neat slice in her finger. Who knew a little cut could hurt so much? So much for waking Tristan gently. Despite herself she could feel tears burning her eyes. She glanced over her tightly clutched hands to see what the scout was up to and found two dark eyes blinking back at her.

"What are you doing", he asked slowly and, quite reasonably. She was sitting up in bed, clutching her hand as if her life depended on it, face screwed up in pain. Not to mention the blood.

Blood! Tristan's foggy mind cleared miraculously. He sat up and efficiently examined her wound. Scrabbling in his pack, conveniently placed next to the bed, he found a bandage and quickly tied off her wound. Tristan knew from experience that any injuries to the hands were painful.

That done he returned his gaze to Maye's face, waiting for an answer.

"You were having a nightmare and after what Lancelot did to Gal that time, I decided that it would be safer to first remove all sharp objects before trying to wake you."

Tristan didn't know whether to be amused or … Maye seemed to have that same pathetic look about her that his bird had when called from doing something she knew was wrong (like deliberately swooping Gawain). She just looked so fragile… He didn't know, maybe it was the light, but the sight of her like that made his heart jump painfully.

As they were both sitting up in bed, he swung his arm around her and cradled her gently against his side.

"Next time it happens just call my name loudly or hit me with a pillow." Maye smirked evilly at the last option, but Tristan continued, "I would never hurt you Maye".

Maye's voice sounded small and to her ears at least oddly pathetic. "I know."

He watched over her until she calmed and eventually slept. It gave him time for some important reflection. He did not know what would happen now. His service was ending and the others were talking of going home. But home was a long way away – many days ride and at least fifteen years. And then there was Maye. He still remembered the games they used to play and how long he had waited for her. Their life had developed a lovely intimacy now, like something comfortable and lived in. They were no longer trying each other out for size. Truth be told, he privately though the Maye would stack up better than any mystical Sarmatian woman of Gawain's imaginings. But now, finally secure in his relationship he wondered what would happen next.

- - - - - - -

The shout of "Riders!" echoed through the fort. Maye knew what that meant. She gave one last disgusted look at the large bucket of water she was attempting to haul to the tavern and quickly made her way to the courtyard. The washing could wait for a moment and this might be the last time she would see the knights ride in. Approaching from the opposite direction, she could see Vanora and her various children on the other side of the courtyard, behind the fencing. From her position in the shadows, Maye stepped forward and shared a delighted moment of eye contact with the other woman. They were back - The knights were finally free!

The thundering of hooves and something else caught her attention. A carriage. They had obviously found their bishop. Maye watched from the shadows as the knights lined up in formation and respectfully waited for the bishop to descend and go on his way. There was a large crowd gathered today – maybe in the hope of seeing the illustrious Bishop or in her case to see the presentation of the all-important papers. But to Maye's disappointment, after the sharing a few words with Arthur the man swept past him into the building. Of course, their freedom had to wait on one man's convenience. How very Roman.

Maye made her way back to the well. Hauling water in the middle of winter really was a horrible job. Not only did you have to crack the ice over the top but you always ended up freezing yourself half to death. And it would be so easy to build a small duct or even divert one from over… Maye stopped herself. Here she was busily concocting plans for the improvement of the fort while she did not even know if there was to be a future here. It was horrible how your mind betrayed you and all that carefully constructed farce was shattered.

She and Tristan had decided nothing (hardly surprising) but then communication had never really been their strong point. It was starting to wear her down. She could not always consider her future with the same light-hearted air that she and Dagonet had laughed over only last night. Something had to happen.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Maye, stay away from the Bishop."

It sounded suspiciously like an order. She studied him intently. His eyes were hard and his jaw was set. She could see the tense, tight line of muscle where it melded into neck.

"Lance?"

"I don't trust him. Don't go anywhere near him or his men if you can." Lancelot had a bad feeling about this. He knew that in theory, Maye had nothing to fear from Germanius. As a high-ranking Christian he was supposedly celibate and would probably only tolerate his men conducting discreet liaisons with the working girls. But Lancelot had a bad feeling about this one. The stunt with the carriage had proved he was cunning and not to be trusted. And to Lancelot, a man was a man, with a man's desires no matter the cloth he draped himself in.

After studying his face, Maye agreed easily. "Alright." She had a feeling Tristan would be equally suspicious of this Bishop.

- - - - - - -

Maye was irritated. A kind of simmering annoyance that built and built until… And there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn't even amusing (at least in her opinion) so a good laugh at someone's expense was also out of the question. The only remaining options were retreat and drink. But neither were really feasible, especially because it was barely midday.

She was currently assisting the bishop's man, Horton to heat bath water for His Eminence, Bishop Gnaeus Germanius. Maye had done this more times than she could count but nothing she did seemed right in Horton's opinion. It was really beginning to get her down.

First the water she hauled was too cloudy, probably dirty. Next the fire wasn't big enough. And after all that the questions had begun. How long had she lived at the fort? What were the conditions like? Did she follow the teachings of our Lord? (Maye ended up mostly lying through her teeth.)

And then it got worse. Horton, temporarily distracted by the loud yells of some of Vanora's brood outside the window again turned his penetrating gaze upon her and asked the question Maye most dreaded.

"And do you have a husband?"

Maye couldn't lie to that one. She really did not want to tell this little creature anything but there was so much talk about the scout around the fort that he was sure to hear something sooner of later.

"Ah… sort of."

He drew himself up to his full measly height in Christian outrage, "You are not living in sin are you!"

Maye could have laughed at the picture he made if it was not all so awkward. She had a flash of brilliance, "No no, we are courting."

Horton seemed satisfied with that. He began a tour of the room, fingering the damp patches on the wall and the various washing supplies. He made small noises of disgust under his breath. Maye turned back to the fires in the hope that his curiosity was quenched. But no, there was more. "And does he work a good, honest trade?"

She considered saying that he was a carpenter but instead replied vaguely, "He works for Arthur."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Maye knew it was a mistake. Gods, he would probably wish to meet the man next. And she knew better than anyone that Tristan looked and acted nothing like a groom or personal servant. She had already heard Horton's opinion of 'those heathen knights'.

Maye quickly sought for something to forestall his next question when her eyes opportunely alighted on the jars stacked in the cupboards next to where Horton was standing. "Did your master wish for any herbs in his bath?" She almost sighed in relief.

Horton considered this for a moment and then, to Maye's relief, sniffed once and said, "I will go and ask which he would prefer."

As the door closed, Maye slumped gratefully in her chair. That man would be the death of her! She rubbed the painful crick in her neck, only to resume her diligent position in a flash as the door swung open and Horton's head appeared. His eyes flashed commandingly, "Please find out from your man, maybe, what time Arthur wishes to meet tonight." And then he was finally gone.

Maye allowed herself one breath of relief before going to the window. To her good fortune, Vanora's children were still outside. She waved and young Gilly trotted over.

"Gilly, can you go and tell Tristan I need him please?"

Without another word he sped off.

Maye stayed at the window for a moment watching and then returned to her position next to the fire. At least it was warm. She had an uncanny feeling that this was going to be a long, cold winter.

She did not have long to wait. The first she knew of Tristan's presence was the sound of her name being softly called. Maye turned to find her dear and very silent scout in the doorway, a somewhat mocking smile on his face.

"Having a fun morning, love?"

Maye snorted in reply. The knights obviously knew the whereabouts of their guests and were enjoying the thought of Maye couped up with the irrepressible Horton.

She stood and moved into the waiting circle of his arms. Thudding her head gently into his chest she mock-sobbed out her woes. "Oh Tristan. Damn that man! He is driving me into madness!"

Recalling herself for a moment, she raised her head, observing the guiltily smiling scout through narrowed eyes. "He wishes to know what time you meet this afternoon."

"Same as usual. Jols will fetch him."

Maye nodded in understanding before extricating herself and moving to attend the slowly boiling water.

She looked over her shoulder. "And Tris, if you run into _dear_ Horton remember that I do not spend nights in your rooms, we are courting with the matchmaker's approval as good couples should and you work for Arthur in some menial but honest form of toil."

Seeing the astonished look on her usually unreadable scout's face sent Maye into a wicked burst of chuckles. It served him right for laughing at her predicament. Maye turned back to her cauldron. Gods forbid his Holiness' bath should not be perfect.

Maye was startled by the sound of Horton's weaselly voice, "And where is your man?"

She looked around slowly from her position bent over the fire. She could have sworn that Tristan was at her side just a minute ago. How did Horton get there and where was Tristan? She wished he wouldn't do that – it made things very difficult at times. "Ah, you seem to have… missed him... just."

The man looked at her in disbelief, "Just missed him? Hmmm. I saw no one in the hallway just now" His voice was sickly sweet with polite contempt. "Could you find him for me _please_?"

Maye stalled. If Tristan heard this rat speaking to her that way, he would… She stopped herself just in time. A meeting between the two _must_ _not_ happen. "He told me that the Bishop would be called before sundown."

Horton just looked at her.

Maye knew exactly what that glance meant. This creature obviously thought that she had made the whole story up. A lazy servant with an imaginary lover, ahem, man. Hah! She tried to convince Horton again. "He will be around here somewhere. He was working." She got up and hopefully scanned the area outside the window.

There was a long pause.

"Should you not go and look for him?"

Maye almost snorted at the idea of anyone looking for Tristan and finding him - the Gods themselves would have to be with her if Tristan did not want to be found. And he had disappeared pretty quickly when Horton arrived! But she couldn't very well tell this little man that could she? Evasion was always the best method to use in these sorts of situations. "Ah no. He always comes back to find me. Eventually."

Maye cringed inside as the words left her mouth. She was making him sound like a semi-trained hound of some sort. She could at this stage, have quite happily walked away from this horrible man but for a strong sense of duty. It was going to be a long morning.

Tristan had better make it up to her.

- - - - - - -

AN: Thanks for reading, and a review really would be lovely!


	8. Absence

Hey all. I know this is short but it's faster than my usual updates! The bit about the song was actually meant to apply to this chapter – sorry if it confused anyone but I hardly expected you to all go out and search for the song. :)-

Thank you so much for the reviews – I don't think I have ever had that many for one chapter before. I know I'm not supposed to do this but, thanks to: Beleg Strongbow, HateFilled-Demon, Furibondo, la argentinita, Priestess of the Myrmidon, Miluielwen, Tracy137, Sachita, Black Knight63, homeric and Readerfreak10. (sorry if I got any names wrong)

Usual disclaimers apply

Thanks for reading and please review!

celosia.

Maye was at the tavern, had seen what occurred. In fact she almost dropped the jug of ale she carried. Arthur did not have a choice and neither did the knights. She felt like screaming and crying and shouting out that it was not fair. But it would do no good and it was not her battle to fight. Lancelot had been right about the Bishop. Maye moved swiftly through the tavern and out to the back. She needed to be away from this tension, the pitying glances of the other girls and the gloating ones of some of the Romans. Once outside Maye leaned against the nearest wall. What was going to happen?

She sat for what seemed to be a long time, her mind circling around one question. Maye got up and slowly made her way to the rooms where she knew Tristan would be preparing.

There was a knock on the door. Tristan did not answer. He knew it would be Maye. The door opened silently, just enough to let her slip through. She shut it softly. Maye said nothing, only stood watching him check through his belongings. Minutes passed.

Since Maye had entered the room, he had done nothing to acknowledge her, just continued packing, as if it was the most important thing in his life at that moment. Maye corrected herself guiltily, it actually was.

"Tristan, I'm sure everyone here would like you to come back alive… particularly me."

He straightened slowly at her last words. There was a glint in his eyes. "Is there something you want to say?" There was a small twist to one corner of his mouth. That look always meant trouble.

She smirked in unconscious reply, knowing exactly what Tristan wanted to hear. Well, she would give it to him but probably not in the fashion he expected.

She stepped up to him. That in itself was something, as most people, even some of the other knights would have turned and run on seeing that glint in Tristan's eyes.

"Yes, there is. Tristan, I love you and I would like it if you came back to me." Suddenly she faltered, panicked. That wasn't what she meant. Not really. She loved him but he didn't just have to come back to her… she didn't want to create something between them merely because he was going on a life-threatening mission. It wasn't how Maye did things. She tried again.

"You know that I love you and would like it if you came back." She paused for a brief internal sigh. That was much better – exactly what she meant to say the first time. "But don't go making any promises you can't keep and don't get any silly ideas into your head! If you pass in this battle or the next…" Her eyes challenged him here. Maye knew there would always be another battle with Tristan, "…I will grieve for you, as I never have before. But there's no way I'm throwing myself from the wall just to join you in the afterlife or… or committing myself to a life of loneliness. I'll go on living as best as I'm able and I'll come to you when it's time if that's the way it is. "

There was a long pause. She held his stare.

"Here and now, not forever." Tristan finally broke his silence. His tone was musing, thoughtful.

"Hmmm." Maye wasn't sure if it was a question. She decided to be noncommittal. She almost laughed. Only she and Tristan could have a serious discussion about their future which included grunts and mumbles.

Tristan finally broke the silence, "It could be a long here and now though, could it not?"

That was what she had waited for. Tristan still had not moved. She knew that if he touched her she would break into tears, certainly not the image she wished him to depart with. Damn, this man – he was making her emotional.

She answered, finally. "Yes it could."

- - - - - - -

Maye and Tristan said their goodbyes before the knights assembled the next morning. He would not let her come to the stables to see them off. Gods only knew what would happen, with Galahad and Bors in a rage, a mad Bishop, guilt stricken Arthur and an outraged Lancelot. It would definitely be safer if Maye stayed away. She resisted at first - they were her friends too.

"Maye, I love you and I will come back…", he paused (she had an uncomfortable feeling that he could read her thoughts) and then grinned suddenly, "… to you."

That was all Maye needed. She watched them depart from the top of the wall.

- - - - - - - -

Maye was in denial. She thought ruefully that though effective it was hardly a great way to deal with the situation. Tristan had obviously been influencing her. Bloody scout. While Vanora ranted almost daily, Maye kept her head down and pretended nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Saxons? Rome leaving Britain? The knights on a suicide mission _above_ the wall? Not to mention a mad bloody Bishop. She was starting to get odd looks.

Damnit! Where the hell were they? How long did it take to rout a Roman family, avoid an army of Saxons and remain undetected in woad territory while trying to make it back to the fort alive?

Bargaining. Maye thought it was sickening in a way but she had a lot to lose. Oh, if someone, something out there would just listen to her! It really wasn't that much to ask. It could hardly affect more than a few people and those few deserved it so much. (Not to mention her happiness…) Oh please, please let them come back. Please.

- - - - - - - -

Tristan thought that this was hardly going to plan. Not that they'd had a plan in the first place. Just a strong desire to get the boy and get out alive - simple really. Ha! First they had acquired a Roman family, then a woad and a boy and then an entire bloody village. And this was not even including several wagons, horses, some cows and even two goats. He had never liked goats. Maye loved them for some odd reason. She believed they had personality. Tristan wasn't really sure he wanted 'personality' in his livestock.

They also had some bigger problems. Arthur seemed to be having a crisis of conscience, the woad girl and her apparent designs on Lancelot (or maybe Arthur, or even both), the sick boy who Dagonet had adopted and the mad Roman. Not to mention the Saxon army.

Tristan just wanted to go home. Home to Maye. He had decided that regardless of place, Maye was home to him now. But really, all things considered, he probably should have told her before he left. He smirked bitterly at the hawk perched on his shoulder. Damn.

- - - - - - - -

Maye and Vanora stood on the wall, watching. They were back. With… a village. Maye looked again. Yes, it definitely looked like a village. Not a village in very good repair from the looks of the people… There was even a goat or two. Maye let out an unconscious sigh of sympathy - poor Tristan; he despised the creatures.

She was jolted from her reflections from the sound of Vanora gasping. She counted. Oh no. She counted again. There was a rider missing. She could not see Dagonet.

- - - - - - -

It was later that night. They had their papers, Dagonet had been buried and the Saxons were at the gates. But Maye temporarily pushed all that from her head. More important events were taking place: Tristan was packing.

Yes, packing what little he had accumulated in fifteen years. And Maye was sitting and watching him. She didn't know what to do so she sat. None of it seemed quite real any more. They were back but Dagonet had fallen and now lay in the cold ground of Britain. (Bors was quietly drinking himself into a stupor.) The bishop had relinquished the papers and had received the unwilling Alecto, favourite of the pope. And Arthur was staying to fight. No nothing seemed quite right any more. Not that she would be telling anyone of her confused thoughts. Maye kept this all to herself. Gods only knew what Tristan was thinking.

Truth be told, Tristan wasn't thinking much. He felt tired. Very tired. He wanted to leave and then rest. But something did not feel right. He had always trusted the feeling in his gut and it was telling him now that something was wrong. It was just a niggling feeling but up until now it had kept him alive. At least Maye was still with him.

They were interrupted from their separate thoughts by a knock at the door. Tristan called to come in. Maye wasn't sure she wanted visitors – her head hurt as it was. But when the door opened it was only Lancelot.

Lancelot was lost and he needed to talk, so he came to Tristan. Odd, no? But to Lance it made perfect sense. They each had a lot to lose. He stepped into the dim room, finding Tristan sitting on the floor, his packs around him and Maye sitting hunched over on the bed, obviously watching Tristan. He closed the door behind him and sat on the only chair in the room. He said nothing.

If Maye's thoughts were tangled she could only imagine what Lance's were like. He had obviously come for something. She tried to think what it might feel like to leave your best friend behind to face almost certain death. But that was easy – it was how she felt every time Tristan went out. But this, this was different. It was too much for Maye. These men had been here together for fifteen years and now one was buried and one was staying. Was it a betrayal or was it what Arthur seemed to think it was - just his men claiming their longed for and rightly deserved freedom? Her head pounded even more viciously.

And then Lancelot opened his mouth, his eyes on Tristan. "Tomorrow?"

Maye stood abruptly. She did not want to be here for this. "I might go and pack." Her words rushed out, betraying her confused and jumbled emotions. She met Tristan's eyes. He nodded once in understanding.

Lancelot had the feeling that some silent communication had just passed between the scout and his woman in that one look. There was a sudden chill to the room. Or maybe he was just imaging things. It had been a rough day. He scrubbed tiredly at his face.

Maye slowly and carefully stepped around the remaining piles of belongings systematically placed on the floor.

As she passed, Tristan grasped one of her hands, softly brushing his lips across her knuckles.

Lancelot watched this in surprise. He had never seen something so private pass between the couple. And then he caught the look on Maye's face. One eyebrow was lifted somewhat mockingly but everything else, her eyes, lips and mouth, conveyed a sort of raw tenderness he had never seen before. The intimacy of it all made his heart jump.

She left without a word, shutting the door soundlessly. Tristan continued on with his packing as if nothing had happened, studiously ignoring Lancelot's surprise-filled gaze.

"You've got a lot to live for."

Tristan's eyes glowed back at him. He knew.

- - -

A/N: I am sorry to have killed off Dagonet but well, nobody is invincible and people do die…

Despite that I hope you enjoyed it and please review.


	9. Wounds

Big thanks to all reviewers. And now we have the big angsty chapter. Sorry about that – the humour starts again after this one. Bear with me…

Usual disclaimers apply.

Hope you like it and please review!

-celosia-

Maye was perched somewhat uncomfortably on the backboard of a cart, watching the fort recede into the distance. They were leaving. The knights rode in a close group a short distance away. She watched as their horses fidgeted. War horses. It had never struck her till now, how apt their name was. She watched the looks that passed between the men.

'Oh no', Maye thought. No. The realisation came in a sudden flash. Not again. Tears stung her eyes. No.

Tristan watched Maye through his fringe of hair. She was biting her bottom lip and her eyes sparkled. They only did that when she was amused or about to cry. He quickly suppressed his thoughts about crying women – at this time she had a perfect right to be upset. He couldn't do this to her any longer. But he pushed that thought away and tested his bow. This all had to end somewhere.

Finished with his weapons and armour, Tristan glanced at his friends and moved off to Maye. She still sat on the backboard of the cart.

Bringing his now peacefully expectant horse to a stop, Tristan looked into her eyes and said, quietly, "I'm going to fight."

At first Maye said nothing. She seemed frozen. She knew that for Tristan at least there would always be another battle, but so soon? Couldn't he at least wait a month or so until she had recovered?

Maye gave herself a quick mental shake – he was waiting on her. She reached out and grabbed his armour, pulling until their faces were only inches apart. "Don't you dare do anything stupid." A slight smile tinged the corners of her mouth. Her eyes still sparkled with tears.

Tristan smiled – he had underestimated her. "I won't."

He waited for more but all Maye did was stare into his eyes for a moment as if searching for something that wasn't there.

It was enough. He turned to the others but her voice halted him. "Tristan!"

He looked back to see Maye now glaring at him, still worrying her bottom lip.

"You're damn lucky I love you!"

- - - - - - -

Battle (AN: sorry I could not resist. Will he live or die? Oh the tension!)

- - - - - - -

Maye finally arrived at his bedside. The others had waylaid her outside the healing rooms, probably giving the healers enough time to at least make him as respectable and well-looking as they possibly could. The news did not seem good.

In the darkness of the corridor, she stared blankly at Arthur and the woad woman Guinevere. Lancelot, Gawain and Galahad were also inside being treated. Arthur was obviously distressed. Tristan and Lancelot were closer to death than life and he now had to explain to his scout's woman the extent of his injuries.

Maye listened to Arthur's account of the battle. She was oddly still throughout. When he finally finished, she backed the few steps until able to lean against the wall behind her and then sank slowly to the ground. Maye sat silently, her knees to her chest and told herself severely that she was going to cope with this. She would be calm and caring, not at all unreasonable. Maye drew in a deep shuddering breath. Right. How hard could it be? In a moment she would get up and open the infirmary door behind which, Tristan lay. He would not look good but she would be all right. Everything was going to be fine… she would just have to wait and see. It was no use being unreasonable.

Arthur was worried. Maye did not seem to react to what he had told her. She just sat against the wall, blinking her eyes slowly and swallowing. He could see the workings of her throat. Maye did not even stir when the infirmary door opened and Galahad and Gawain stepped out. He looked helplessly to his friends. At their arrival Guinevere placed her hand on his arm in a comforting gesture and left them in the corridor.

Maye thought that she was coping reasonably well. She was still in one piece and the choking feeling that had attacked her earlier was fading. Tristan. Gods, Tristan! What exactly was he playing at attacking the Saxon leader? It was not as if the man had anything to prove. Pure foolishness. There were sure to be plenty of other Saxons on the field and he had to go and pick their damned leader! Maye felt a bit guilty at that – it was not as if she had ever been on a battlefield and for all she knew any other of the brutes could have been capable of hurting her scout. But still… Anger was helping her at the moment. It was possibly the only thing stopping her from breaking down and sobbing herself into oblivion.

"Maye?" Her jumbled thoughts were interrupted by the worried voice of Arthur. She sniffed once, pitifully and switched her gaze to the three surrounding knights.

"Are you alright?"

She did not reply but noticed the appearance of Gal and Gawain. They were patched up but on their feet. At least those two were fine. A bittersweet smile momentarily transformed her blank features. Maye spoke softly, almost in a whisper, "I am glad you're alright."

She held her hand up which Gawain immediately grasped, squeezing her fingers in comfort.

Galahad looked at Arthur in confusion. He asked again, "Maye? Are you alright?"

She answered slowly with a hard edge to her voice, as if the words had to be wrenched from her, "Actually, I was deciding whether it was best to ask Tristan _what in all the hells he was thinking doing something like that_, or finding something else… more reasonable and… loving to say."

At that moment a healer appeared and gestured that it was safe to enter. He was an older man and had observed many grieving friends and relatives over the years. However three stunned knights standing over an obviously distraught but strangely still woman in a hallway did seem a little odd, even to him.

Maye was the first to react to the healer's words. "You go, I might just sit here for a little bit longer."

- - - - - -

Tristan had not stirred during Maye's long vigil by his bedside. She had watched over him for days, only leaving when absolutely necessary. The healers had kindly accommodated her by placing a chair between the beds of Lancelot and Tristan. She could watch over both her friend and lover.

All concerned had been relieved that after Maye's odd behaviour in the hallway, she had broken down spectacularly upon seeing Tristan, and again on seeing Lancelot. In a strange way, it had broken the tension.

- - - - - - -

Maye stood at the top of the wall. Her days had developed into a pattern. She woke with the sun now, something that would never have happened before. Damn scout – he was managing to control her life even from his deathbed. She gave a morbid chuckle that was soon carried off into the wind. Each morning she would grope for Tristan's hand to check if it was still warm and then she would lean over and listen for a few moments to the faint, reassuring thumping of his heart. Only then would her day really begin. There had been a fever and infection. Maye refused to think on that miserable, wretched time. She wished to erase it from her mind. Tristan slept on, peacefully now. Maye knew sleep was good. It meant the body was healing. He could sleep for as long as he wished for all she cared.

She leaned into the wind that always blew strongly at this height. It was refreshing and she hoped it would clear her head. Lancelot had woken yesterday and was now slowly regaining his strength. Things were changing. Arthur was to be crowned King, Guinevere Queen, the Romans had left the isle and the knights were free men. For Maye herself, little had changed. She would have to go back to work soon if she wanted to keep her job at the tavern. Business had been light to non-existent just after the battle, but now that word had spread that the Saxons were defeated, traders and families were moving back to the wall. She did not like to leave Tristan but then it would not really make much of difference. Though she would like to, Maye could never believe in the old tales told of a lover woken with a kiss or through the enduring presence of a beloved person waiting at their bedside. She turned back to the fort and slowly made her way down the steps. Things just did not happen that way.

- - - - - -

Voices. There were voices coming from the healing rooms. Though Maye now slept most nights in her old room, she made frequent visits to the healing rooms. It was late at night and Maye, unable to sleep had stepped outside to look at the stars. She slowed her pace and listened intently. It was too late for the healers. Maybe it was one of the other knights paying a late night visit.

She paused with her hand on the door. The voices were soft and one seemed to be doing most of the talking. Suddenly there was a quiet 'thunk' followed by a muffled curse and soft breathy laughter. She wondered what was going on.

The door swung open on well-oiled hinges. Lancelot sat on the edge of his bed, nursing his injured arm and shoulder. The clay pitcher of water that usually sat on the table next to his bed was overturned and water slowly dripped down to form a puddle on the floor.

"Lance? What are you doing?" Her eyes swept the dark room and immediately checked on the still form of the scout. He still seemed the same and she quickly moved on. 'Wait!', her mind screamed. The same? His eyes were open.

No it couldn't be. It reminded her of a dream she had often now. Such a simple dream, it couldn't be true, could it? She walked slowly to his bedside and repeated her usual actions. Maye reached for his hand, only to have it meet her halfway and grasp reassuringly at her own fingers. She smiled brilliantly and let out a small, joyful trill of laughter.

He was awake. Awake. It was wonderful! She must go and tell the others. His slight grip on her hand had not lessened and she did not want to break the contact. The others could wait…

- - - - -

Maye had an uncomfortable feeling that Arthur was going to ruin her present happiness. Tristan was awake, the healers were talking about moving him back to his old room and Vanora was baking a pie in celebration (more important than you might think – Bors seemed to think the event more momentous than the birthing of his last child). What could possibly go wrong now?

"Maye, we're a bit worried about Tristan?" Arthur had that look on his face.

"Why, he's awake and says he doesn't feel too bad?" The key word here being 'says'. Maye had a suspicion that if Tristan were being torn apart, wrenched limb from limb by forces beyond his control, he would still insist he was fine.

"Yes, well, it's more to do with what happened during the battle…"

Damn Arthur for ruining her happy day. Gods knew she deserved it. Maye breathed a small sigh, "What happened?"

Arthur's jaw tightened noticeably as he said, "He crawled Maye, crawled to get away from Cerdic." He let out a long sad sigh. "Tristan's a proud man and we thought that might be why he hasn't really responded to anything much."

Maye almost could not believe she was hearing this. Maybe it was unreasonable of her but she just didn't get it… maybe it was a subject the knights would have more sympathy and understanding of, but to Maye's practical mind… there was no problem.

"He was trying to live, I don't think there's anything to be ashamed about in that."

She was trying desperately to keep it together and not be offended or angry. Arthur was only trying to help and her hackles had risen like a protective she-wolf. It was important to calm down. But Maye just couldn't do it.

Her eyes blank, she met Arthur's caring eyes and said, "And now, if you will excuse me, my King?"

It was all too hard.

-

Thanks for reading, folks and please review.


	10. understandings

Hey all. Thanks for all the reviews – they really make my day! A return to some humour in this one (at least I hope so).

Usual disclaimers apply…

Hope you enjoy it and please review

-celosia-

It was Maye's first night back at the tavern. Of course she was preoccupied but hoped to be hiding it. It was a familiar routine and in some ways quite comforting – like a dance in which all the players understood their steps. That was, of course, until one stepped out of line.

She was clearing a table, only to have her hand stayed by a large man. The grip on her wrist was firm but not painful. Startled, she looked up in surprise and a tiny bit of annoyance. How _dare_ he interrupt her dance? Despite this Maye was calm.

"Sir?" Maybe he wanted another drink… or some food.

"You look like you need a man, wench."

Whoa. That was unexpected. Maye had almost forgotten how to deal with customers like this. Most had been too terrified of Tristan and his fearsome reputation to even lay a finger on her. She focused more clearly now. If she had been paying attention, a well-aimed shove or kick would have been enough to free her without causing a lot of bother. It was too late for that now. The look in the man's eyes was lustful but not clouded by drink. He was well muscled and quite handsome and sitting at a table with two other large companions. They were in one of the darker corners of the tavern. Maye tried to think clearly and not panic.

She tired to sound casual, "Really?" Maye's mind screamed at her to 'Be calm' but it did not seem to work. She did not need this right now. Did not need this at all.

"Someone who's _all_ man." His husky, suggestive words seemed to make something click within her.

"_You_ think I need a man?", she asked, voice rising in the suddenly quiet tavern. "Let me tell you something – I've already got one. He's up there lying in an infirmary bed. He only woke two days ago and you think I need a man? Do you know what I really want? I want to know why the bloody hell he had to go and attack the Saxon leader? The man had nothing to prove, to me or anyone else in this horrible place. And I want answers, because I thought this was all over. We made a deal! And suddenly my lover decides to do something heroic or selfish or selfless and we're nowhere at all, because he's awake but he's not talking -to me at least- and by the Gods, I want answers. _And you think I need a man_?"

Maye was not aware that as soon as her emotional voice had pierced the low murmuring of the tavern, all else had stopped. She had not realised that Bors, Gawain and Galahad had come to stand protectively behind her. She was not aware of any of this. Maye was angry - very angry. She felt a hand on her shoulder and whirled to face this new attacker, only to find Gawain.

"Maye." He managed to get one word out before she seemed to hurl herself into his chest and began to sob hopelessly.

Exchanging glances with the others, he quickly hustled her outside. Galahad joined him in a moment, leaving Bors to have words with the man. Although, it had looked as if he had certainly got more than he bargained for.

Maye's sobs had not stopped and she seemed unwilling to detach herself from Gawain, so he simply stood with her cradled in his arms, while she sobbed into his shoulder.

They both tried talking to her. But nothing seemed to work and if anything her cries became even louder and more distressing

"Let's take her to the scout." Galahad said, beginning to lead the way through the fort.

They entered the infirmary to find Arthur sitting between the beds of Tristan and Lancelot. Though it was late, both were sitting up and the room was well lit. While Galahad held the door open, Gawain quickly moved inside and went to place Maye on the bed next to Tristan. At this stage she seemed to be shaking her head and mumbling something repeatedly. Gawain, mindful of Tristan's injuries, gently placed her on the bed, at his side. After a short questioning glance at Gawain, who shook his head briefly, Tristan placed an arm around her shaking shoulders and smoothed her dishevelled hair.

When he looked up, his face held the determined, deadly mask they knew so well. "What happened?"

Galahad related what they had seen, while being careful to avoid reference to any of Maye's speech.

"What did she say to him?" Lancelot asked curiously.

Galahad looked uncomfortable. He really did not want to be the one to break this to Tristan. "Well… she made it clear she wasn't interested in his attentions."

Unexpectedly, Gawain began chuckling. "I believe the words, '_And you think I need a man_?' featured several times." He mimicked her incredulous tone perfectly.

Lancelot gave a shout of laughter, while Arthur looked stunned, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Tristan was torn between anger and fear. They were really the first strong emotions he had felt since the battle. Even waking up in the infirmary had not provoked any strong feelings. Sure, he was in pain a lot of the time, but it was as if everything else was experienced through a haze that dulled his senses and clouded his mind. But now… He had not been there to protect her. But then it did sound like she had handled the situation. Unusually, but she was unscathed and that was all that mattered. When Gawain had first come in with Maye cradled in his arms, Tristan had thought for just a moment that… It was one of the few times he had felt such overwhelming dread. Then, when Gawain had nodded that she was fine, he had been attacked by anger both at himself and her unknown suitor.

He continued to soothe her while also listening to Gawain and Galahad's description of events. What exactly did she mean by '_And you think I need a man_'?

Gawain continued to describe the incident, taking particular note of the faces around the tavern when Maye had called the fort a horrible place and said that Tristan had nothing to prove to anyone in it.

Arthur, a large smile still gracing his features, nodded in appreciation, "And of course they all know that she's right."

There was an audible shuffling of blankets and after a moment Maye's face emerged, blotchy and tearstained. Voice scratchy and rough, she asked in horror, "I didn't did I?"

Gawain continued chuckling. "Oh yes, you should have seen their faces."

Maye again burrowed her head into the blankets. There was a muffled, "Oh Gods."

Gawain and Galahad continued their recount but Tristan was more interested in something else. He leaned down to where he suspected Maye's head was and whispered, "Maye?"

There was a low moan in response.

"Why?"

There was silence for a long moment and then he felt the blankets begin to shift and Maye's head again slowly emerged. When she looked at him her eyes were sad. "I lost it. I was angry."

Tristan had not expected that. Was she angry with him or someone else? How did that work? Most women did not act like this. Maye had always confused him. In fact, when Bors was injured, Vanora clucked over him like a mother hen. It was the only time that they did not fight with each other. He wasn't sure he understood.

Maye saw his confusion and tried to explain. "I've been angry for a while. I mean it was all so simple – one more mission and then, nothing. You could make your own life. But then that bloody Bishop and all this happened and then…" She stopped, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, trying to hold back. She needed to get this out. When Maye opened her eyes again she kept them lowered. Her voice was softer, "It was all meant to be so simple. We had a deal and maybe a future and there would be no more waiting for you to come back."

She smiled almost bitterly and looked up. The others had stopped talking in an effort to catch Maye's soft words. She now included them all in her gaze, "Did you know that Vanora and I used to joke that our men had it easier than any others in the fort – all they ever had to do to make us happy was come home at the end of the day."

Tristan thought he might now, understand.

-

Thanks for reading folks. A review would be lovely!


	11. Games?

Hey all! Thanks for all the responses to the last chapter. This might be the last update for a little while – work has built up yet again (sigh). Due to some interesting responses and to be honest, rather brilliant ideas (not mine i'm afraid) – I am going to continue on with the Tristan/crawling saga at some stage. Don't quite know where it will fit in, but it will be there someday. Thanks everyone!

Usual disclaimers apply…

Please read and review and I hope you enjoy it (This is one of my favourites)!!!

-celosia-

Tristan was worried. Maye had not been to visit him all day and it was nearing dusk now. He was still confined to his bed but was now back in his old rooms. Where was Maye? He knew he had been hard on her lately but she did understand. Or he hoped she did.

The late afternoon sun warmed the room. Tristan kept the window open permanently. This extended period of bed rest was wearing on him. He remembered suddenly that Maye loved the afternoon sun. They had often watched the sun go down together. Unfortunately his window faced the north, so it would be impossible to do it again. But where was Maye? He decided to go looking for her.

Despite the healers' instructions, Tristan had been testing himself – a little bit each day. Slowly, he levered him self up until he leaned against the wall his bed was situated against. Then it was just a matter of swinging his legs around and rising off the bed. He used to be able to do something like this without any thought at all and now it required careful planning. He chuckled softly, the sound echoing for a moment in the empty room, before turning into a pained groan. Sitting on the side of the bed, Tristan mused that his side was particularly tender today. He blamed it on Maye. Where _was_ she?

He gathered himself for the next and most difficult stage – actually standing up. Telling himself sternly that the anticipation was far worse that the actual action, he slowly stood. Tristan was halfway up – in a stooped position and a lot of pain when there was a soft knock on the door. It opened without waiting for a command to enter.

"_Tristan_! What are you doing?"

It was Maye. She moved quickly to him and eased his body back into a sitting position.

Through gritted teeth, he explained, "Was coming to look for you."

She gave him an odd look at that statement. Tristan had no idea what it meant. Maye was never usually this guarded around him. She placed an apple of the chair next to his bed and then sat next to him. Unusual. Tristan took the opportunity to study her closely. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the strained lines around her mouth. And now that he had started looking, he noticed more. She looked thinner than usual. Still beautiful but almost… frail.

"Maye. Are you alright?" Tristan felt like kicking himself. He could not believe that he had not realised what a state Maye had been in sooner. He was meant to be a scout. Observing things was his life.

"What?" Maye looked at the scout as if he were mad.

He studied her carefully and then reached out to lightly trace the curve of her cheekbone, moving up to smooth her hair behind her ear. Even her hair did not feel as it used to.

"Have you been eating? You're thinner than you used to be."

Maye blinked at him. She had ignored the question, simply revelling in the sounds of his voice and his touch. It had been so long since he had touched her, in any way other than a comfort seeking gesture. And his touch on her cheek had been… nice. It had been far too long since she had felt anything but worry over this man. And now this desire was flooding her senses like quicksilver. She tried to push it away and concentrate.

Tristan's harsh tone cut sharply into her thoughts. "Have you been sleeping?" He still looked at her with that searching glare.

She gazed at him in bewilderment and leaned back across the bed. Where had this come from? He almost sounded like her mother. She was tired and knew she had not been looking after herself particularly well (not that she didn't have a damn good excuse). She met his eyes steadily and replied, "Did you know that I have started waking with the sun? Even if I go to sleep just hours before, it still happens."

"No I didn't know, but then how could I? We haven't shared a bed, not even a room since the battle."

Maye was speechless. Exactly what was he on about? He wasn't blaming this on her, was he? She was really in no state to be confronted by anyone. She only had to think of what happened last time – the tavern patrons now treated her with as much caution as they used to treat the scout. But Tristan, questioning her about whether she had been looking after herself! She almost laughed. It was ridiculous. When she arrived he had been trying to leave his room, against strict orders and now had the nerve to look at her as if she was killing herself from within.

"What are you trying to say?" Her voice rose, almost indignantly. Maye sat up on the bed to face Tristan properly. She could feel the almost familiar flashes of anger. "This hasn't exactly been easy, you know. No one talks to me as if I'm sane anymore. Other women look at me as if they don't know whether to offer sympathy because my lover was wounded or commiserations because unfortunately he did wake and pull through and the Gods only know we all would have been better off without a killer in our midst. Your friends are more confused than I, and … and now you're angry at _me_!"

That wasn't what he meant. He thought miserably that this just wasn't working. Nothing seemed to be going right at the moment. Tristan took a deep breath, uncomfortably stretching his stitches. "Maybe we should give each other some space until things are back to normal." Tristan left a lot unsaid. He felt guilty. After all it was his fault, not Maye's.

"Space?" Maye's voice was quiet. She had a horrible suspicion he was trying to leave her. Hardly a good idea when the afterglow of her anger still remained. But she and Tristan had never been the most conventional (or reasonable) of couples, had they?

"Yes."

He was refusing to meet her eyes. It was a sure sign that something was wrong. Why was he doing this to her? The reasons for it all escaped her at the moment - it made no sense. Tristan had just confessed to getting up from his bed to come looking for her and now, after a few moments of intense scrutiny was attempting to leave her. Well she just wouldn't allow it!

"No."

"What?" His shock made him turn from the wall to meet her eyes. They were angry and hurt. Tristan realised suddenly that he had never really seen Maye angry before.

Maye's voice was firm, "I mean I am not going to let you do this." She shrugged her shoulders in amusement. "Not much can come of it anyway. You can't leave your bed and I'm not going to give up on you." Her grin was triumphant, smug and exactly what Tristan needed.

He had never been particularly good at emotions. Maye understood that, so he reached out to her, softly glancing his fingers over her face and hair, mirroring his previous action. It was a gesture of love and appreciation. Again she leaned into his touch, feeling the flickerings of desire.

Reflecting his actions, Maye reached out and softly ran her thumb over the tattoo on his left cheekbone, noting the dark circles under his eyes. He was looking healthier every day – his colour and familiar obstinate nature had returned, but he still looked dreadfully tired. Maybe it would be too much exertion…?

There was concern and hope in her voice. "So how _are_ you feeling?"

"Better." Tristan had a feeling he knew where this was going. This was one of those days where he certainly was not going to stop Maye from having her way.

"Good."

- - - - - - -

It was the next morning. Tristan had slept peacefully and Maye thought he still might be dozing. She wouldn't put any money on it of course – you never could tell with the scout. Maye felt worried. She looked anxiously at his face. What had she done? The man had tried to leave her last night and what had she done? Jumped him. Yes, that's right – not your typical reaction to an attempted rejection, but what fun was there in conforming? She cast another worried glance at Tristan's peaceful face. He hadn't seemed to mind. But still! What was she thinking? What if he had been serious? The questions raced through her mind only to be interrupted by the sound of an irritated groan.

Tristan's voice was till raspy with sleep, "You weren't lying when you said you woke early now." His eyes were closed against the early morning light.

"Tristan?"

If Tristan had hopes of retuning to sleep they were shot to pieces by the sound of Maye's anxious voice. Something was very wrong. A suspicion that was confirmed as Maye sat up, drawing some of the blankets with her and leaving him with a perfect view of her naked back.

Tristan gulped. His hand almost itched to trace the jagged line of her spine down, down… Enough! He urged himself to concentrate. They would sort out whatever was wrong now and then he could… explore. It really had been far too long.

"Gods, Tristan. How did this happen? I mean, you tried to leave me last night and we just…"

He tried to lighten the mood somewhat, "You were late."

"So it's my fault."

His attempt at humour obviously hadn't worked and Tristan was still faced with the enticing picture of Maye's bare back. He wanted to hold her, make up for the past weeks. Maye did not need this. He refused to think that she did not need him. They had a deal.

"No. It just happened."

Maye grunted in amusement and irritation. She had not missed his small joke – just hadn't felt like responding. "That doesn't help."

Silence was her only answer and Maye twisted round so she could see the scout properly.

Tristan looked at her expectantly as she moved but not an inch more flesh was revealed. How women did that, he would never know. At times he had been in the same room as Maye while she changed and no more flesh than that appropriate for a brother to see was exposed. It was a skill - a downright irritating one at the moment though. She now sat, her feet curled under her, the blanket tucked tightly underneath her arms reaching down to cover the tops of her thighs. He had always liked early morning lovemaking but previously Maye had never considered 'early' any time before mid morning. She looked inviting.

Maye had not missed his focused glare. It was as if he was trying to see through her coverings but Maye was not going to fall for that a second time. It was no way to deal with their problems.

"Tristan!" His eyes met hers with a touch of guilt.

Maye almost smiled at his rueful look combined with the remaining haze of lust and sleep. "I can't read minds, despite what some may think being with you all this time."

"Well, would you like to make a guess at what I'm thinking now?" His voice was low, husky.

"Tristan." Her voice was low with warning.

"Maye." He lifted an eyebrow in challenge and watched as Maye seemed to fight a silent internal battle not to give in. A shiver wracked her frame.

'Damn him!' Maye's mind screamed at her but it was half hearted at best. He looked far to good lying there with such a self-satisfied smirk. She slowly let the blanket drop slightly, revealing the tops of her breasts.

She chuckled deep in her throat at his wandering gaze. "And what do I get for guessing right?"

Tristan again raised an eyebrow in challenge before reaching for her. "What ever I'm willing to give."

Sometime later, Maye looked at him gently from her position cradled in his arms. She whispered softly, "I can't heal you Tristan."

His heart thumped painfully with love for this woman. He tightened his hold, "You don't have to."

- - -

That's all for now, folks. Hope you enjoyed it and please review!


	12. Possibilities

Hi all! Sorry it's been so long but work finished and then I had a bit of a holiday and now I'm back. I would love to finish this before Christmas or at least the new year, but we'll see how we go. Bit of drama in this chapter and I hope it doesn't offend anyone… poetic licence and all that.

Thanks for all your continuing support and readership – it means a lot. Hope you enjoy this one and please review!

Usual disclaimers apply…

-celosia-

Maye had forgotten to take the herbs. With all the worry about Tristan and nursing him, it had simply slipped her mind. She did not even have her usual supply in the rooms. And now, after the last days, it was possible... Her head pounded. She did not even know if being with Tristan the past night and morning was enough to get her with child. She pushed it from her mind. It was too soon to know for sure. And the herbs - it was even too late to go out and gather them herself – the moon had already passed and she was not a skilled enough herbalist to know how the mix changed with the seasons. She decided to wait. It would be clear soon enough.

- - - - -

Tristan did not know what was going on. He did not like this feeling at all but any time he tried to understand the situation… well let's just say it hardly helped. His head hurt but he decided to attempt to unravel this one last time. There was a problem, more specifically a problem with Maye. And there, that was it. All he could fathom of the situation in two meaningless words: problem, Maye.

Wonderful. Maybe he was losing his touch. He was spending a lot of time in bed – that could be it. No more of these short halting walks around the place - when he was back on his feet again it would all make sense. Of course it would. Only a matter of time.

But then Maye had always confused him.

- - - - - - -

This was just too much. There was obviously something going on. He was caught between annoyance and interested amusement. Gods knew he loved Maye and the scout, but really…

And everyone knew that it was a rare occurrence for Lancelot to trouble himself out of concern for the welfare of his friends. Vanora had observed bitingly only the day before that he was successfully making a career out of getting 'company' (ahem) and drink out of sympathy for his war wounds.

But even Lancelot was jolted out of his now peaceful and very pleasant existence. Something was obviously very wrong. He had decided to enlist some help. After his efforts last time and Arthur's strict warning not to ask Maye 'delicate' questions, not to mention the rather vicious training session he had endured with Tristan the day after that incident… well some help would certainly be appreciated.

Unfortunately none of the others had any insight to offer into the problem. Bors was inclined to think it was female problems, whatever that may have meant. Lancelot didn't think he even wanted to know. For the moment at least he preferred his dealings with women to remain simple, somewhat superficial and very pleasurable.

He had caught Galahad on what was obviously a bad day. In fact Gal was no help at all, merely saying that Tristan had always been a moody fellow and he wouldn't worry too much.

Gawain's response had been fascinating to say the least. He appeared to have no interest in the couple whatsoever. Lancelot suspected it was just an act. With the air of someone who knew what he was talking about, Gawain had then advised Lancelot not to worry if Maye was eating odd foods - she did that all the time. Lance didn't know what to say to that so, with a friendly clap on the back Gawain began to go on his way, only to turn and with a laugh in his voice say that he would only begin to be concerned if one began plotting to do some harm to the other. Then he was gone.

Odd. It was all very odd. Lancelot decided to wait and completely unknown to him, he was not the only one.

- - - - - -

Maye was content. She wasn't sure she wanted to analyse that feeling too deeply, though. Tristan was getting stronger and crankier by the day. She indulged him by spending most of their time outdoors as the healers still warned against him striking out on his own. They were sitting now, in their usual place, watching the afternoon slowly disappear into night. The sun was on her face, it was going to be a beautiful sunset and her scout was sitting next to her – what could be better?

"Tristan, what happens now?"

"Don't know Maye. I think we will continue to help Arthur."

Maye looked up at that. Her unspoken question was obvious. More fighting?

In response, Tristan swung an arm round her shoulders. "Not for a while yet. Arthur thinks we need a holiday…"

"… and it will take some time before anyone quite realises what has happened here," Maye finished.

He smirked at her. "You've been learning."

Maye narrowed her eyes in mock seriousness, but her words were honest. "You have no idea."

- - - - - - -

It was the day of the markets. The usual crowd was now assembled as usual but Tristan hardly noticed. He was focused on one goal. Maye. Yes, he had been reduced to spying on his lover. Not that he suspected her of finding comfort in another man's arms; Maye would never even consider something like that. But something was definitely the matter, so Tristan was collecting information the only way he knew how. He had been reduced to taking up position in the thatching of one of the buildings overlooking the market place for two reasons – firstly his progress was still irritatingly slow, and secondly, Maye's outburst in the tavern seemed to have had some tangible results. Everywhere he went now old maids cast him sympathetic but wary looks and some even ventured to inquire after his health and recommend something that had helped their sister or daughter or cousin recover from a scythe accident, or some such. It was driving him mad. So from his not entirely satisfactory vantage point he watched Maye move from trader to trader with Vanora, purchasing whatever the tavern needed. She obviously knew some of the merchants well. He occasionally caught just the echo of her laugh over the noise and chatter. He watched both women pause over the table of jewellery, their hands still and heads close together. Tristan was struck by a brief note of guilt – he never bought her anything like that. The only presents he ever gave Maye were the occasional pear and a varied assortment of wooden beads that he whittled when the mood took him. She seemed happy enough with them.

He watched as she and Vanora parted near the cloth merchant. Vanora made her way back towards the tavern, a heavy basket clutched in her hands. Maye obviously had more shopping to do. She looked over her shoulder once, checking on Vanora's progress and then slowly scanned the crowds. Tristan would have been proud of her, if he were not so worried. She was certainly being careful. He watched at she went to the herbalist, an old man almost hidden behind his stacks of dried herbs. They had a long conversation in which the old man shook his head a lot. Maye almost looked as if she had been struck. Then she handed over a few coins in exchange for a small leather pouch. Then she was gone, out of his sight.

What was going on?

He had lost her but gained some useful information. Tristan made his way slowly back to his rooms. Maye was a confusing creature at the best of times, but this?

Opening his door, he found the object of his thoughts sitting cross-legged on the bed. In front of her was the mysterious leather pouch he had just observed her buy.

Outwardly Maye looked calm, but Tristan knew it was an act. He had heard from Arthur that as soon as she had heard he was injured, she went into this strange, still state. It was a defence, a way to hide and a very effective one.

He waited and kept his distance. It would not do to frighten Maye more than she already was.

"You know I take herbs to stop becoming with child."

It was not a question but he nodded anyway. In the beginning he had worried but Dagonet had reassured him.

"Well. These are the herbs I usually take. You boil them and then drink a cup of the brew. But this time…" She stopped and met his eyes for the first time. "… there is a chance I may already be with child and if I take the herbs…"

Maye could not continue but she held Tristan's gaze. This was not easy. She knew she should have told him what she suspected from the beginning. But it was hard. She wanted to decide what she wanted first and then confront the scout but the more Maye had thought and considered the problem, the more she had realised that she was nowhere without the opinion of this man. She wished she knew what Tristan was thinking.

Tristan was happy. Relieved to be exact. There was nothing wrong with Maye – she was not sick, she did not want to leave him. There was nothing wrong that could not be mended. He heaved a great internal sigh of relief. _But a child?_ Was it too soon? He did not know.

He needed time to think. He was just a scout, a killer… he could not make the decision for her. It was too early for him.

"Take the herbs if you wish."

Maye just looked at him.

- - - - - -

She found him later in the confusion of the tavern. It was a busy night and the crowd was restless and rowdy. Maye had to struggle through throngs of men to find the knights. Tristan was in his usual seat, surveying the room. She was sure he had observed her progress across the room. Maye wished she knew how he felt. Hopeful? Anxious? Damn scout.

She made straight for him, not even pausing to exchange greetings with the others. Tristan waited as she perched herself on his lap (not very gracefully) and after studying him for a moment, reached for his tankard of ale.

Maye took a sip and watched his face over the rim. She saw the frown in his eyes – if she was with child she should not be drinking. Before she could drink again he had grasped the mug and pushed it out of her reach, face returning to a blank mask.

But Maye had seen that flicker of concern and despite everything she was happy. Maye had her answer to at least one question. He had accepted the possibility that she could be with child. He would protect it with the same love she knew he held for her.

She leaned in close so their foreheads were touching. This way no one else could see what was being said and she had a perfect view of Tristan's face. It was hardly the type of conversation people usually had in a rowdy tavern but she and Tristan had never been a typical couple by anyone's standards.

Watching his eyes, she whispered, "I did not take the herbs. My cycles came on this afternoon. They were just late."

Tristan didn't know what to think. Reflexively he crushed Maye to him in a hug, burying his face in her hair. He was torn between grief and a sense of relief. He wanted children with this woman… but this had obviously been the wrong time. Maybe it was too soon – he wouldn't have minded a while longer with only Maye to worry about but… this had opened up so many possibilities. Wonderful possibilities.

After a moment they pulled apart, each studying the other like nervous children. Raw emotion shone in each pair of eyes.

Tristan reached for his mug of ale and held it to Maye's lips. She took a small sip, wondering for a moment what he was up to. But when Tristan placed the mug in her hands she understood, a knowing smile curving her lips and held it for him to drink also. It was a kind of secret pledge or toast or even a promise.

- - - - - -

Thanks for reading and please review. Next chapter coming soon.


	13. Definite potential

Hello all! Sorry about the long wait. I won't go into the reasons for the delays... but some encouraging reviews might prompt me to work harder (hint). Sorry – I know how horrible it is to be nagged but I just couldn't resist - writers temperament and all that. Hope you like this chap and hope the mistakes aren't too bothersome – I only read through it quickly.

Some of the credit for getting this chapter out and about must go to Dickonfan. Cheers m'dear!

Usual disclaimers apply…

Happy reading,

celosia

- - -

Tristan was trying to escape. He needed to think. And as he was not yet allowed to go scouting, he had retreated to the tavern. It was a poor substitute for the forests but Arthur had been adamant. And if he was honest with himself he knew he was not yet at full strength. So, the tavern it was.

The tavern was not exactly an ideal place for thinking, even when quiet during the day. But when the object of some of his thoughts was calmly going back and forth working (and ignoring him!), well it was distracting.

But truly, he needed time to think, to consider his options. It was a new feeling. He had never really had options to consider before – Rome had decided everything. But now… he needed a plan. Truth be told this kind of planning was also rather new to him - very different to battle tactics.

Where to start? It was all very confusing. He had a future, a woman and a place in Arthur's court. Endless possibilities (particularly where Maye was concerned). Maybe it was time to start taking things more seriously. Marriage? He snorted in amusement – they did not even live together! Maye still kept her room with most of her belongings stored there but spent all of her nights with him. Could they live together all the time and not rub on each other's nerves? It was a valid question. Tristan had been assigned his own room almost from the beginning of their time at the fort while the others had been crowded two and even three to a room. Arthur had always maintained it was because scouts came and went at odd hours and needed their sleep, but Tristan knew better – he was a horrible person to live with. In close proximity other people were simply irritating. But considering the problem, Tristan thought that it might be possible to live together with Maye. They had always respected each other's need for space and if he wanted to take things further then this was the way to do it. It would be a step in the right direction.

Marriage would mean discussions, planning, communication. There would be no more leaving things to the last possible moment, no more waiting to see what tomorrow would bring. They would have to work at it. Especially if there were children. Children? Now there was a thought. Tristan remembered Lancelot saying he did not deserve sons; he had killed too many.

Secretly he wanted a son… or a daughter. Really it did not matter. He tried to imagine what a combination of Maye's and his looks would be like. And a name? Would they pick a Sarmatian name or something British or even one from the lands where Maye had grown up? So many possibilities…

- - - - - - -

He was nervous. Gods only knew why? But taking a breath, he spoke, "What do you think about living together?"

Maye paused. Living together? Tristan suggesting they live together? Well now. That was odd, but not entirely out of character. She would be lying if she said she had never considered it.

Maye cocked her head questioningly, "How would we do it?" The question was genuine. For two people such as herself and Tristan to co-habit, well it would take some work.

"If you say 'yes', Arthur will organise it all."

Maye looked at Tristan from under her lashes. It was an apparently sure-fire trick that she had learnt from Vanora. It was supposedly meant to 'put Tristan in his place'. What ever that meant. It did seem to be working though. Tristan was squirming.

"I think you know that wasn't what I meant."

He had the grace to look guilty. "I know… We'll work at it."

There was a long drawn out silence. Tristan knew Maye was thinking but the wait was driving him crazy.

He didn't like to beg, but now was certainly the time of it. "Please."

Truthfully Maye did not need all that long to consider. She was enjoying the look of worry on Tristan's face. She knew that he loved her but these small moments of confirmation when he let his guard down a bit were… nice.

"Yes."

- - - - - - - -

Some days later…

"Here." He patted the space next to his long frame. "Lie with me."

Maye struggled into the space, her head resting on Tristan's shoulder, her feet hanging over the end of the bed. Their bed.

If she tilted her head just so, Maye could watch Tristan's face through the corner of her eye. He looked content, relaxed. She had been secretly worried that he would stab somebody during the day. The knights had been a bit of a trial. Ha! The man obviously thought that moving would not be a stressful experience.

"What next love?"

His eyebrow twitched. Tristan did not plan on doing anything for quite a while. "Wait and see, Maye."

Maye frowned in mock-concern. "I thought we weren't going to do that any more."

His voice was quietly insistent, "Just wait and see."

"Got me here under false pretences, didn't you? Part of the plan." Her voice trailed off… It really was very nice to lie down. The rest of the unpacking could wait.

After a moment Tristan asked, "Would it matter?"

But he was only met with silence. Maye had fallen asleep.

- - - - -

Their new rooms were still sparse. Tristan had thought that Maye would have more belongings and more of those little things that women seemed to collect. But her few decorations were carefully chosen and obviously of great importance to her. There was now a rug on the floor next to their new bed. Arthur had presented it as a sort of celebratory gift while busily ignoring the jokes made about presenting a bed as a gift. It was larger and more comfortable than those usually issued and the others had all been in to view it. Tristan almost laughed in remembering Maye's growing exasperation as the knights had arrived to test its softness and offer tips on where to place everything. Their single chair (he wondered if he should find another?) now had a ratty but still beautiful old blanket of Maye's thrown over it and a small table sat in a corner of the room.

Tristan had watched with interest as Maye had sorted through her belongings. She pulled out objects well-known and others exotic. Interestingly, she had a collection of tiny, sharp bone needles, though she seldom sewed anything and various off cuts of fine cloth. Articles of clothing were pulled out and folded, some familiar and some he had never seen her wear. There were dresses, a pair of two of britches that he had smiled at and another pair of boots that he could see needed mending. Women. Other bits and pieces followed, including a collar of fine embroidery that her mother had made and a leather satchel of a fineness he had never before seen. The small bag containing the game over which they had originally bonded was also revealed. And then finally, he had watched as, from the bottom of the pile she pulled a small plain black sheath. Maye handed it to him wordlessly.

Inside was a finely wrought dagger. The handle was simple and wrapped with a black leather that matched the sheath. Testing it, Tristan found the balance was perfect. It was both a work of art and a rather deadly piece of metal. He wondered how Maye had come by it.

Maye had watched as Tristan inspected her blade. "It was my brother's. I have not seen him in years, but he left it for me."

He handed her back the weapon and watched as she fingered the tiny stitches on the side of the sheath.

A thought struck Tristan. A rather important one. "Don't show it to Lancelot. We'd never hear the end of it."

Maye studied him a small frown wrinkling her brow, a smile touching her lips. "Would he like it?"

Tristan snorted. "You'd have to guard it from his hot little hands."

- - - - - - -

All in all, Tristan considered, living with Maye was not that bad. In fact, it was really quite nice. He wondered why they hadn't tried it sooner. He was able to observe more about Maye this way - little details that in the past had slipped his careful observation. It was as if learning more about her observable behaviours gave him more insight into some of her confusing ways. As someone trained to observe the world around, he found it fascinating. There were times when he walked into their rooms to find Maye lost in her own world. Times when her eyes were open but closed to him, shut off, and she was obviously in a place far far away. Tristan didn't really know what to do at these times. His scouting instincts condemned this behaviour but Tristan reminded himself that Maye had never had to be alert to all threats. In all their time together he had never seen her do this before. She had obviously decided that their rooms were safe and so allowed herself these… periods. Only now that they were living together has this quirk been revealed. Fascinating. Sometimes when he enters she immediately rouses herself and greets him with happiness and on other occasions it takes her a few moments. He decided after a while that he did not mind this odd behaviour in his mate; as long as she was happy to see him after journeying in the tunnels of her mind – that was all that mattered.

- -

Maye struggled up the path with a basket-full of washing. It was a long night last night and the fort was still mostly quiet. Living with someone was not all that bad, really. With Tristan, it was certainly interesting. The man could be downright odd at times. But only in an endearing kind of way. Nothing annoyed her terribly, yet. Though the almost compulsive sharpening and testing of his blades was beginning to wear. Just a bit. And oh she was trying so hard.

There were times when she entered their rooms to find Tristan working at some activity and he seemed almost annoyed to see her. Almost. There was a slight tightening of the lines around his mouth, which, after a moment quickly relaxed. Maye wondered if she was imagining it. At first she just ignored it and continued about whatever business she had. But then that really would not do. She started to feel guilty. So Maye decided to experiment. The next time it happened she walked out and left him for a bit longer to enjoy his solitude or think or whatever it was he was doing. But this action oddly enough had unexpected results. No sooner had she settled herself in the courtyard to catch the last of afternoon sun, had Tristan joined her, seating himself next to her without a word. Maye still didn't know what to think. In the beginning he had made it very clear that he wanted her presence and so she decided it was probably best to ignore these little lapses or whatever they were. She loved the scout dearly but there really were times when he made her head ache.

He was often still for long periods of time. But it wasn't a restful stillness. There was an underlying threat of action that Maye found both disconcerting and somehow endearing. She didn't want to ask Tristan about this particular habit. It might have been memories of past instances of inattention that provoked him into this tense state. Or maybe, before his service to Rome, he had been one of those people who must always be doing something, always fiddling. Like Lancelot. Maybe his scouting had stamped out that little habit. She did not really want to know.

- - - - - -

The knights were in the tavern after a long day of discussions. Running a country was hardly an easy business. Tristan was both tired and bored. Maye had the night off so he didn't really know why he was here. The others were also subdued. He was sure they were all wondering what a group of knights and fighters were doing trying to grapple with diplomacy and taxes and …

Tristan's thoughts were interrupted as Maye walked into the tavern. He gulped. She was wearing his cloak with what looked like the long slip she often wore to bed underneath. Her feet were bare. Her hair was ruffled, left out and running down her back. It looked as if she was going to bed. There was obviously something wrong or otherwise she wouldn't be parading around in her underclothes.

Watching her approach, Tristan was aware of a sharp intake of breath next to him. Gawain had obviously seen her.

She sat across from him, squeezing between an accommodating Lancelot and a slightly startled Galahad. As she sat, he caught a glimpse of a smooth ankle causing another sharp breath from Gawain. Gods – women and bare feet. His mind screamed at him to 'Focus!'

Unlike the others, Galahad was actually concerned that something was wrong. He respected Maye and ignored her lack of dress as best he could. He was worried. "Everything alright, Maye?"

She nodded but focused her eyes on Tristan, sitting impassively across the table. Galahad wondered if he was imagining it but there was a slight sparkle to the scout's eyes.

"Fine, Gal. You know I was going to have a quiet night. I just wanted a bath and then sleep. So I got into bed, blew out the candle and then I felt something. Under the sheets."

There was a pause. Everyone waited. Was it a harmless prank? (They had once put a lizard in Arthur's bed.) Rodent? Reptile? Insect?

Maye waited, enjoying the suspense. She was torn between annoyance and amusement at the episode. And while she would teach Tristan a lesson (it was of course, his fault) she would not make a fool of herself in the process.

Lancelot finally asked, "What? What was it?"

Maye's hand reached into the pocket of the cloak, under the table. Then her hand slammed a knife into the wood of the tabletop.

A knife. More specifically – one of Tristan's knives. They all recognised it.

Maye leant over the table, her voice low. "And what I would like to know is what in all hells it was doing in my bed?"

Gawain let out a startled choke of laughter. It was not really what he had been expecting but with Tristan, well it made perfect sense.

Lancelot leant back in his seat, a look of unholy delight on his face. "Yes Tristan, please do explain."

The scout said nothing but reached over and with a jerk pulled the dagger from the wood, returning it to one of many sheaths hidden on his body.

That done, a slight smirk curved his lips, "I lost it."

Maye was sceptical. "In the bed?"

The smirk grew wider. "Remember this morning?"

Maye thought. She had left early and then returned after lunch to find… Tristan sharpening his knives and then they had… (ahem) and then she had made the bed. Damn it. It all made perfect sense. But that meant while they had… there had been an open blade… in the bed with them. Oh Gods. She almost shuddered.

Watching the look of intense concentration on Maye's face and then the dawning of understanding, Galahad wondered what was going on.

Lancelot also seemed intrigued. "What? What happened this morning?"

Gawain caught the slow blush as it spread over Maye's face and neck. "Oh. I get it."

He wagged a mock reprimanding finger at them. "You two must be more careful."

Maye's blush deepened a shade and with great presence of mind, Tristan rose and moved to her side.

"Excuse us."

She stood numbly, not bothering to hold the cloak tightly around her body. For a moment the scout and his woman looked at each other, both with small embarrassed and guilty smiles on their faces.

Then noticing his friends all blatantly viewing Maye's odd and very revealing attire, Tristan closed the cloak around her body and together they walked out the door.

"Well, what was all that about?" Galahad and Lancelot still didn't get it.

Gawain gave them a superior look. "If you can't figure it out I'm certainly not going to tell you."

Receiving black looks, Gawain chuckled to himself for a moment before raising his glass. "A toast, knights."

"To Maye and Tristan! May they love deeply, find happiness and never loose their peculiarities in all of their days!"

- - - - - -

Thanks for reading and please review!!!


	14. Resolution

Well well – a new chapter! A few loose ends are tied up in this chapter in preparation, I suppose, for conflict ahead… Exciting, no? A couple of shout outs for this one – after the battle scenes a couple of reviewers (la argentinita, Furibondo, Homeric, Priestess of the Myrmidon) said some interesting things about the continuation of the Tristan crawling storyline and then Dickonfan well and truly set the ball rolling by suggesting the real reason (far better than what I had come up with).

So hope you enjoy this one and please review.

Usual disclaimers apply…

-celosia-

There was a loud knocking on the door. Tristan and Maye had been sleeping peacefully – it had been a busy and rather cold night so their warm bed was very inviting.

There was a pause in the thumping and the sound of muffled voices for a moment.

Maye groaned, the sound rumbling in her throat. "We don't have to get that, do we?"

Tempted as he was to say no, Tristan was well aware that it could be important. It did not stop him waiting a few moments for the person to go away though.

The knocking resumed before he could answer, this time accompanied by a voice.

"Tristan! Get your lazy ass out here!" Unmistakably Bors.

Maye felt the bed dip as Tristan struggled out from under the covers and the whisper of fabric as he pulled on a pair of britches.

The opening of the door allowed a rush of cold air into the room. Autumn was on its way. Tristan eyed the men standing at his door.

Gawain looked painfully cheerful. "Didn't get you up did we?" He had always been a morning person.

"Morning Maye!" He called out, wilfully ignoring the look of irritation on Tristan's face.

After a moment there was a muffled, "G'morning" from under the bedclothes.

"We're goin' hunting. Deer in the forest to the north."

Tristan almost groaned. Bors had always had a wonderful tact for stating the obvious, and he had already gathered their intentions from the knives and bows hanging prominently off each figure. He had been roused from his lovely warm bed to be invited on a hunting trip in what was so far the coldest weather of the season!? Really there was little contest – spending half a day freezing his ass off with men he had spent most of his life with, in the hope of sighting a deer or two or going back to his bed and wiling away the morning with Maye. If he had been prone to loud outbursts he would have yelled his frustration.

But before Tristan could politely voice his refusal.

"Oh for the Gods sake man, if it isn't important, will you get back into bed?"

There was a stunned silence for just a moment before a sly smile curved Tristan's lips.

"Good hunting."

- - - - - -

'Poor Arthur'. Maye watched from the relative safety of the tavern while Arthur was constantly waylaid on his way across the courtyard. The poor man probably only wanted a drink and all these people were hassling him.

Readying a tankard for him, Maye thought ruefully that nobody would ever try to do that to Tristan. Even she would let him have the drink first and then begin nagging. Not that she ever nagged, of course. No doubt Tristan would do something unspeakable if she even tried it. Ha!

Maye was still chuckling dryly when Arthur eventually made it in the door. The look of relief on his face when she handed him the ale was almost palpable.

"Something funny, Maye?"

The smile bloomed again on her face as she gently herded Arthur to a chair. "Just Tristan."

Arthur looked almost startled. He had obviously had a bad day – his sense of humour was dulled. "You find Tristan funny?"

"Parts of him, yes."

There was a long pause and Maye began to move off behind the bar before Arthur raised a hand.

"Maye there's been something I have wanted to speak to you about for quite a while." He motioned for her to take a seat.

Maye sat reflexively but her mind was elsewhere. Had she done anything? More to the point, had Tristan done anything? Or not done something?

"Do you remember after Badon hill I tried to talk to you about Tristan…" He could see that Maye hadn't yet figured out what he was talking about and continued, "… and you just about snapped my nose off."

That did it. Maye had felt horribly guilty for attacking Arthur. He had only meant to help them.

"Arthur, I'm sorry for…"

But he didn't let her get any further. "It's all right Maye. I know it was a hard time for you. What I was really wondering was whether you had talked to Tristan about the battle."

Maye almost snorted but realised who she was talking to just in time. She couldn't stifle the small, mocking smile, though. "Talk? No we haven't really talked about it."

"It's just that whenever Badon comes up in conversation or in the talks we're having with the Britons, Tristan just shuts down"

Ah, now Maye had it. Damn Tristan's meddling friends! Sure they could be endearing and useful at times and she now counted them all as close friends of her own. But they really were an interfering lot.

She sat up straighter, still no match for Arthur's height but it helped. "You mean how he crawled – that's it isn't it?"

Arthur had the grace to look just a bit guilty. "Yes, well we think that might be it."

"Well, I don't think that it's a problem but I suppose we were all going to have to jump this hurdle sooner or later, so we'll just ask him, won't we?"

Arthur gulped. "You mean, just… straight out?" There was a pause. "Are you sure, Maye?"

She patted him on the shoulder kindly, her frosty act temporarily disappearing. Poor Arthur – so much to worry about. "Of course. But we'll do it when all the others are here. I'm sure they've already laid odds."

Then with another laugh and a squeeze of his shoulder she was gone.

- - -

Tristan had a bad feeling about tonight. Really he did not want to go to the tavern but Maye had insisted he at least make an appearance. She had been muttering things all day – the only words he was able to catch being about 'horses and fences' and 'his bloody friends'.

When he tried to ask Maye about it, she just smiled blindingly at him and said it was nothing. And truth be told when she smiled at him like that, well, thoughts had a tendency of flying out of his head. And he had a feeling that Maye knew it.

It hadn't taken Tristan long to realise that this was never good.

So now here he was at the tavern, drinking, when he really wanted to be in the stables or sleeping. Anything really.

Suddenly Maye appeared at his side. Either she was getting quieter and more surefooted or he was losing his touch. She squeezed onto the bench next to him and let her gaze sweep the table. For a small woman she could really look quite commanding at times. And then Tristan noticed that any conversations around the table had stopped when Maye arrived and Arthur was clearing his throat in _just_ that way. Oh no. Something was definitely going on.

"Ah, Tristan there's something we wanted to asked you."

Tristan looked at Arthur with suspicion. His commander seemed… nervous and Arthur was never nervous when giving orders or instructions.

"Yes?"

"Ah, right then. Maye?"

As all eyes turned to the woman perched next to him, Tristan was all too aware of the amused and all too knowing smile on Maye's face. It slipped for a moment though and she looked almost apologetic before speaking.

"Love, why did you crawl away from Cerdic?"

Tristan unhurriedly raised his glass and drank slowly, his eyes never wavering, his head never dipping.

Maye was enjoying this. It was a dangerous thing to underestimate her scout.

And then finally he spoke. "Was looking for another weapon."

There was a collective moment round the table while everyone released the breath they had been holding and pondered his answer.

And then it began. Everyone turned on Lancelot.

"Well who got it?" asked Gawain.

Lancelot was looking smug. "Gal and Arthur put money on getting away, you put it on a 'good' death whatever that may mean, Bors was broke and Maye put it on trying to live.

Galahad now spoke, "So who gets it?"

"None of you. Although I may consider giving Maye a cut of the winnings."

"What do you mean?"

Arthur knew. It was really only too clear. "It means he won the coin."

"What!"

Tristan was torn between amusement and exasperation. They put money on this?! Even Maye had placed a bet! He looked at Lancelot, still sporting his triumphant smile. "What did you think?"

Lance shrugged. "Looking for another weapon. Knowing you and then watching you two the night before, it couldn't have been anything else. There's no way you'd turn away from that."

There was a cry of "Inside information", from Gawain and the resulting arguments drowned out anything else.

Maye leaned close to Tristan so he could hear her and asked the question that had been worrying her. "You don't mind do you?"

She tilted her head slightly, so he in turn could whisper in her ear. "No not really. As long as I get part of your winnings."

- - - - - - -

"Tristan?"

"Hmm?"

"Remember that time when you were still healing, and you tried to leave me?"

He remembered. "Yes?'

Maye rolled her head to see his face. "Why did you do it?"

Tristan wasn't really sure he wanted to answer that question. It would mean the revelation of one of his deepest fears. But then this woman had been through so much (a lot of it because of him). One more thing could hardly matter. And it had been troubling him.

"I weigh you down. You could do better." He watched Maye closely but her face was closed, unreadable. The words continued as if forced from him, "You could do _so_ much better. I'm a killer, a fighter. I've never worked an honest day's work in my life. I'm not gentle or caring or reliable. I'm stubborn, I don't talk much and I don't like being beholden to anyone." He paused. "I'm not what most women would wish for in a man."

A small smile was forming on Maye's lips. "So why me, eh?"

Unwillingly, an answering smile was drawn form him. She seemed so completely unfazed by what he had just disclosed.

Still holding his eye, Maye leaned over and softly grasped one of his braids, tugging slightly until their faces were inches apart. "Because you're what I want."

Letting go of the braid, she sat up fully. "Can you imagine some upstanding member of the community taking to me? I work in a tavern. I associate with knights, mercenaries and soldiers, whores and foreigners. I can cook well enough and tend animals but other domestic things tend to be left by the wayside. I can fire a bow…"

She stopped, seeing the glint in his eye. "Shall I continue?"

He shook his head, braids shaking sinuously. "I think I get it. We've both been wondering how we deserve the other."

She smiled archly, leaning back to rest on her elbows. "Actually I've been wondering whether escaping the presence of a mother-in-law makes up for you meddling friends."

- - - - - -

Thanks for reading and please review!


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